#ask game ficlet

[herrmannhalsteadproduction]

I wish you woud write a fic where either Buck or Tommy get amnesia

This made me laugh a bit, Anon, because my friends have said I should write an amnesia fic too, but I haven't had an idea for it yet. Hopefully you like what your request inspired!

Here be the silliest amnesia ficlet ever:

"Evan. Evan!" Tommy crouched down in front of his boyfriend, carefully feeling around his head for any bumps. "Look at me, baby."

His favorite pair of baby blues fluttered open, hazily looking around until they landed on Tommy. "Wh-what happened?"

"You got a little enthusiastic during your cooking and karaoke time," Tommy said, tilting Evan's chin so he could check his pupils. "You slipped—" He still wasn't sure how he'd managed that. "And went down hard. I think you hit your head on the cupboard. Does anything hurt? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three," Evan said, frowning as he moved to sit up. "And mostly my butt and my elbow, but I think I'm okay." He stared up at Tommy with wide eyes. "W-who are you though?"

Tommy's heart stuttered in his chest. "I'm Tommy."

"Tommy," Evan breathed out. "We—we know each other?"

"Yeah, we do," Tommy said, swallowing hard. "I'm your boyfriend. Do you—do you not remember me?" How hard had he hit his head? They had to get him to the hospital—this was bad. This was really bad.

"Boyfriend?" Evan's lips quirked up in a way that had Tommy's eyes narrowing. "I think that's ringing a bell, but—I might need a little kiss to help me remember..." He chewed on his bottom lip, barely holding back a grin as he looked at Tommy through his lowered lashes.

"You're a little shit, you know that?" Tommy laughed as he sat back on his heels��relieved and exasperated in equal measure.

"What about my kiss?" Evan pouted. "How am I supposed to remember my strong, handsome boyfriend—hmpf—"

Tommy pressed forward, putting his all into the kiss, into the reminder of exactly who they were to each other. "Better?" he asked, once they'd finally pulled apart.

"Much better," Evan agreed breathlessly. His face fell into a grimace as he shifted on the floor. "My butt still hurts though."

"Come on," Tommy said, as he helped Evan to his feet. "I'll kiss that better too."

"Best boyfriend in the world," Evan laughed, leaning into him.

"And don't you forget it."

(For this ask game.)

[rosyhoneydew]

12 + bucktommy

ooh two for in grief so I'll make this one a little longer :) thank you sei and anon!! <3 also I PINKY PROMISE this has a happy ending, okay? Trust! also very minor emetophobia warning!

12. ...in grief.

It's bad. Buck knows it's bad because Eddie's arms are around him and they're holding him back. His feet keep slipping on the dirt and his hands scramble against Eddie's forearms as he tries to break free.

"You don't wanna see that, man, trust me," Eddie's saying, his voice breaking.

"Fuck you. You got to say goodbye to Shannon," Buck bites back. It's mean, too mean for Eddie, who's just trying to spare him the sight of- of... of what's just beyond the yellow tape.

Eddie doesn't flinch. Just looks at him, thoughtful, drops his eyes to his feet, and lets Buck go. Buck stumbles a bit as he gets his bearings and sprints over to the scene, dodging the others who try weakly to stop him.

Tommy is lying on the ground, awake, barely, and coughing from the dust swirling around him still. A large slab of basalt is covering his body from the top of his thigh to most of his chest and up to his neck.

He can hear paramedics from the 226 talking around him, the words compartment syndrome and infection swirling around somewhere in his brain while he takes it all in. Tommy was just supposed to be out hiking with- with-

"Buck," someone grabs him by the arm, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, I'm so-"

Buck turns to Sal, his face is a grey pallor and his eyelashes are clumped together with tears and dust. In a few days, Buck will go over to Sal and Isabelle's. He'll thank him for calling 911 so quickly, for doing his best to keep Tommy talking and breathing while they waited, but right now he turns away again and makes his way to Tommy, lying down next to him.

"Hey, sweetheart-" Tommy wheezes out, sending him into a coughing fit again and jolting his body where it's crushed under the rock.

"Don't- don't talk," Buck says, breath hitching. "You're gonna be fine, Tommy, okay? You're- you're gonna be okay but you can't talk. I- if you talk then you'll just make it worse, and..." and it's already really bad.

Tommy smiles at him, tears sliding slowly from the corner of his eye. I'm sorry he mouths.

Fuck. Buck breaks down into heaving sobs. He's not- he can't-

No. He'll fix this. It's okay. His hands brush dust away from Tommy's face. He wipes his sleeve over Tommy's eyes, to clear away the tears, and he check's Tommy's pulse in 3 different spots. It's weak in his leg, but it's there.

"Buck..." someone is saying behind him.

"Evan."

Buck lifts his head from Tommy's ankle, lying down close to Tommy's face again.

"I'm right here, I'm right here," Buck says, grabbing Tommy's hand and taking care not to jostle him too much.

I love you Tommy mouths so much.

More tears flow from Buck's eyes. He's a mess of snot and dirt and he can't stop taking these gross gasping breaths instead of just breathing normally; and he thinks he might be on the verge of having a heart attack because his chest has never hurt like this, never felt like this.

"I love you," Buck says for the both of them. He leans in and kisses Tommy on his mouth, crying harder at the way Tommy can't find the energy to kiss back.

"Buckley, we gotta move him," someone says.

"No!" Buck cries, kissing him again and lying over the top of Tommy's chest. Tommy's not looking at him anymore. His eyes are closed and Buck has to fix this.

"Come on, Buck," Hen's voice breaks through the noise of his own sobs, her hands peel him away from Tommy, firm, but with enough give that he knows she's handling him delicately.

"We'll follow you," Eddie says to one of the paramedics not lifting the rock from Tommy's chest.

And then they're ushering Buck into the truck they showed up in, back when they thought this was just another call, a bad one, sure, but not this. He's shivering, shock invading his body like he was the one crushed, suffocating under rock.

"Hen," he mumbles when they're on their way, staying close behind the sirens of the ambulance ahead of them. He's not sure what he means to say.

"I know," she says anyway.

It's hours before anything changes. Tommy goes right into surgery and Sal and Isabelle show up to wait with him, holding his hands each time the doctor comes out to update them. He throws up twice and cries again right into Isabelle's cashmere sweater.

It's around 4 AM that he falls asleep, waiting in the ICU for any updates. It's 6 AM that he's shaken awake by Lucy Donato, smiling like a maniac in his face.

"Wake up, Buckley!" she says. "He's asking for you."

Chills break out over Buck's body and he sprints down the hall nearly running right into a nurse who's headed into Tommy's room with a pack of clear liquid.

She smiles at him, holding the door to the room open for him and then, god, then Buck sees him.

He looks terrible. He's got the darkest circles Buck has ever seen under his eyes, his hair is a mess. He's still covered in scratches and a bit of dirt. He's perfect. He's perfect.

Buck takes a gasping breath and feels relief flood his body.

"Tommy," he sighs, full of love.

[syndrossi]

I request 100 words involving Corlys! Original Resonant verse or Aemon's sons verse. 😁

I really tried to keep to 100 words here. "Just a warm-up exercise," I insisted to myself. That's probably the only reason this ended up being 750 words instead of twice that!

Anyway, here is Corlys + meeting the twins + chocolate (cocoa)! Aemon's sons AU, and Aemon lives (in this ficlet at least). They're Daemon's age, so 7 years younger than Rhaenys.

x~x~x

Corlys had expected his greatest challenge at King’s Landing to be the king himself. After all, the royal family was flush with male children who would need wives before long, and King Jaehaerys had married his own sister in the Valyrian fashion. Rhaenys had assured him that neither her little brothers nor her cousins had any such designs on her, but that did not mean the king desired otherwise.

But the tense private audience he had spent in the king’s presence, though grueling, was nothing beside the scrutiny of her twin brothers—and their dragons, who were nearing Vhagar in size.

“We will go first,” Valerion informed him, beckoning toward his dark blue mount, Qelebrys. The dragon snuffed at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion, but allowed him to join her rider atop the saddle.

Once in the air, Corlys found his every political motivation questioned, with long pauses for thought punished by stomach-dropping aerial maneuvers. He had always taken pride in his iron stomach, but he learned to answer quickly, lest he sick up all over the young prince.

His reward upon surviving the return flight to the Dragonpit was to endure it all over again on Prince Aerion’s black and bronze mount, Shadow. On this ride, it was his honor being appraised. His intentions toward Rhaenys, his knowledge of her quirks and tastes, his plans post-marriage—all of it discussed at a shout to be heard over the rush of air.

By the end of it, his throat felt utterly raw, to say nothing of his nether regions.

Rhaenys awaited him after the second ride, and for a moment he feared the worst: that there was yet another ride to be endured. But she laughed at his wild hair and greeted him with a kiss to each cheek.

“Have you told my brothers of the gift you brought them?”

In the space of a blink, the twins’ dubious stares became bright with curiosity, and for the first time since meeting them, he was finally convinced that they were in fact nine-year-old boys. Their interrogation begat a guessing game, wherein Corlys was grilled about his travels instead: a subject he could expand on endlessly.

When they had reached the Red Keep at last and Corlys had retrieved the two small parcels he had stored in a cool, dry space, he presented them solemnly to the princes, maintaining a neutral expression as they unwrapped two silver canisters of dark brown powder.

“This,” Corlys said, “is a rare spice known as cocoa, and it is prepared in hot milk with sugar.”

“It is like a tea?” Valerion asked, his expression intrigued as he sniffed it.

Rhaenys, who had partaken before, met Corlys’s gaze with a sly smile of her own. “Far better than tea.”

The missing ingredients were procured from the kitchens, and Corlys showed them how to make a thick paste with a little milk and cocoa before slowly increasing the amount of milk. Rhaenys herself tested the sweetness, adjusting each of her brothers’ cups before pronouncing them ready.

He kept glancing between the young princes and Rhaenys, who was herself watching with clear anticipation, doubtless recalling her first experience with the spice. Much as he knew it bothered her that her claim to the Iron Throne had been discounted the moment her brothers had been born, her affection for them was plain.

Both boys’ eyes widened at their first sip. Valerion drew back to peer in wonder at his cup, while Aerion took another slow sip, then turned to Corlys. “For her weight in cocoa, she’s yours.”

Rhaenys threw her head back in a laugh, then lunged for her brother, wrapping him up in an inescapable hold. “Is that so? Let us see what our father has to say once he and mother have tried it. Perhaps they will inquire as to how much cocoa two dragonling princes might fetch.”

“There is no need for an intermediary,” Valerion said after a few more sips of his own. “A guarantee of royal protection in exchange for cocoa will surely benefit both realms.”

The prince had that same glint in his eye that Rhaenys did when teasing him and Corlys found himself smiling. Rhaenys had told him that they were bright, and the dragon rides had more than proven that, but the wry humor made their sibling resemblance even more plain.

“I still have not told you precisely where I encountered it,” Corlys pointed out.

“Do you not know?” Valerion shot him a pitying look. “It is impossible to keep a secret from Rhaenys.”

[imagionationstation]

16 🍄 with mikey and raph!

🍄 -> You ate a wild what?

Raph notices a problem when Mikey refuses dinner.

His older brother could probably count the number of times when Mikey skipped a meal on his fingers. So when Leo told him to leave it be, Raph promptly and firmly ignored him. He left their injured brother to Donnie’s care and went looking for the turtle that had slipped out of the room during the meal.

He finds him upstairs, vomiting his lungs out.

“You idiot.” He goes down to his side, putting a hand on his head. There’s no unnatural heat. He releases him so Mikey can… Release something else. “Why didn’t you say you were sick?”

“I’m not!” He whines between pants. “My stomach just hurts.”

“And you told who?”

“I’m not a baby, Raph.” He snaps to the toilet bowl. “Go take care of Leo.”

“Idiot.” Raph decides because by the look of his teary eyes and the way he’s grabbing at his chest, Mikey is miserable and he’s got to be an absolute moron if he thinks that he’ll just walk away.

Well. Fully walk away.

He does head over to the stairs to cup his face and scream, “MIKEY’S THROWING UP! MAKE SOME TEA!”

Mikey groans from the bathroom. Donnie calls back, “WHERE?”

“FIGURE IT OUT!”

“REAL HELPFUL!”

Raph heads back into the bathroom. “There. Problem solved.”

Mikey whimpers, holding his chest tighter. After a moment of deliberation, his older brother carefully dislodges him from the toilet and flushes it. Hoisting him from the floor with a low warning about barfing on his plastron, he carries him back to the room that him and Leo share. Laying him on the bed, he grabs the vomit bucket.

Mikey hugs it to his chest, inhaling through his teeth.

“I know, bud.” Raph rubs his arm. “Just breathe.”

“It hurts.” His voice warbles as the tears fall. He’s not sure if the paleness is from the fight not to throw up or the pain. “It hurts a lot.”

“Got to ride it out.” Raph assures. “Gotta-”

The door flies open. Donnie, holding a basket, shouts, “Mikey ate pokeweed berries!”

Mikey and Raph look at him. Then at each other.

The hothead crosses his arms, “Try again.”

“Did you eat these?” Donnie demands as he holds up the bucket. It makes it harder to see what’s inside, but Mikey nods meekly.

“They’re poisonous!” Donnie snaps furiously to hide the anxiety lingering below. “Mikey ate wild poisonous berries!”

“You ate wild what?”

Raph whirls on him. Mikey’s head is halfway in his shell. “…Oops?”

“Why would you do that?!”

“I didn’t know!” Mikey tries to sit up and immediately falls down again, tucking his arms around his midsection. Raph looks to the resident genius. “Is he gonna die?”

“Luckily for him, box turtle metabolisms can handle it.” Donnie huffs as he sighs in relief. “Unluckily for him, human metabolisms cannot. I doubt he’ll die. But the next few hours are gonna really suck.”

Mikey gags and then vomits. Raph pinches between his eyes.

“Maybe now he’ll learn to stop eating random things that have not been okayed as people food.” Donnie is looking directly at Raph but his words are perfectly pitched for Mikey.

The hothead turns him around and shoves him out of the room. “Go make tea.”

“I wasn’t done-!”

He slams the door in his face. After a under-breath grumble, Donnie pouts his way downstairs. Raph moves back over to the bed, takes one look at the tea-streaked face, and sighs. Grabbing the tissues from the dresser, he climbs onto the other side of the bed.

When he lays down, Mikey flips over to latch onto him. He whimpers loudly, buries his face in his plastron, and Raph grumbles, “You’re gonna be fine.”

“It hurts.”

“Yeah yeah.” Raph lifts his face to wipe away the liquid. “Nature’s way of saying to keep away from random berries.”

His lip wobbles, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Raph remarks as he lets him go. Mikey squeezes tighter, a soft keen of pain reaching open air. “Those weren’t my poisonous berries. And it sounds like you’re already dealing with the punishment.”

Another keen tugs at his heart. Raph wraps his arms around him in return, scratching at his carapace. A bit of the tension leaves. “Breathe, little brother. It’ll pass. I’ll be right here until it does.”

Mikey exhales pitifully. Raph leads him through more breaths.

They ride out the next few hours together.

Wasn’t sure which Mikey and Raph? So you get 2012. And thanks! Love a good excuse for fluff!! 🧡❤️

[blushweddinggowns]

"You look stupid as all hell right now."

"You look stupid as all hell right now," Mike snorted as he watched Robin touch up Steve's eyeliner, "You know that right?"

"It's called romance, you ass," Steve hissed, flipping him off while dutifully keeping his head still, "Who invited you anyway?"

"Your better half."

Steve rolled his eyes but he didn't correct him. He was right anyway, "Isn't it a school night? Are you allowed to be out this late? What would your mom think, knowing you were wasting your precious brain power on Halloween parties-"

"I'm in college you fucking dick!"

That struck a nerve. Steve smirked, good. The little shit deserved it.

"And done!" Robin announced before either of them could throw anymore insults, "I think you look good, way sexier than Tim Curry, for sure. Mike come with me to go get Nancy for a second opinion. You obviously can't be trusted."

Mike huffed, mumbling something under his breath before both of them left the room. Steve was pretty damn sure Eddie had sent him in as a spy because despite all of his reassurances, he still didn't believe that Steve was going to follow through on this stupid costume. But here he was, adjusting his fish net stockings while examining himself in the mirror.

He looked...decent. Which was better than he had been expecting. The make-up wasn't as cartoonish as the movie, something that he hoped Eddie would appreciate. In all honesty, Steve was going to take no criticisms for how he put the whole thing together, Eddie was lucky it was happening at all. Not that he would but still. Though if Steve had to guess, Eddie was going to be a fan. He better fucking be a fan, considering how he'd been asking for this forever.

They'd been together five years. Five fantastic, wonderful years. And four Halloweens with Steve laughing in his face whenever he brought up the Rocky Horror Picture show as costume inspiration. But this year...Steve didn't know. Eddie had just looked...extra desperate this time, needy in a way that Steve just couldn't say no to.

So now here he was, moments away from going downstairs to entertain all of their new and old friends for hours on end, all while wearing a corset.

The things he did for love.

"Knock, knock," Eddie's voice called from the other side of the door, like he could just smell that Steve was alone, "You decent in there Stevie?"

"Not exactly?" Steve called back, still frowning in the mirror, "But you can come in. Just lock it behind you."

Steve didn't look up when Eddie waltzed in, but he did hear his little sharp intake of breath.

"Holy shit," Eddie mumbled, bordering on a whimper as he came up behind Steve. He wrapped his arms around his waist, locking eyes with him through the mirror, "You look..."

"Stupid as hell?" Steve answered for him, smiling a little at how flushed Eddie's face already was. Damn, maybe this thing wasn't that bad after all if it could make him look like that.

Eddie shook his head, swallowing once before breathing out, "I was going to say beautiful. Gorgeous. Breath-taking. Extremely attractive-"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Steve laughed, turning around in his arms. He wrapped them around Eddie's neck, pulling him down for a quick kiss, "I'm glad you like it so much. In fact, I'll even let you take it off later tonight."

Steve thought that would have been a good deal, but it made Eddie frown, "Later? But we can-"

"We can what?" Steve interrupted, "Have sex with all of our adopted children downstairs waiting for us? I don't think so."

But Eddie wasn't done begging. He was even starting to bring out the wet, puppy dog eyes, the manipulative little shit, "B-But I can be quick. I can fix your make-up after. I can-"

"Nope," Steve laughed, pulling away from him with a little smirk, "You made your bed. Now lie in it."

Eddie nearly looked like he was gonna cry, the little drama queen, "I...I didn't think this through, did I?"

Steve grinned, leaning up to kiss his cheek before going to the door. He looked back at him, his smile getting a little bigger at the desperate look on his face.

Maybe he did look like an idiot in the bizarre get-up, but Steve didn't care. Not when it had Eddie rushing to follow him out.

[shineon3]

↻ FLIP FLOP: send me a scene from one of my fics and I’ll describe or write it from another character’s POV! and i just want to take you home

What's Daniel's thoughts before he's like... well Max lives here too.. CAT ROOM!

Thank you for the ask, bestie ❤️! Here's a little scene about Daniel's thought process behind the cat room (here's the fic for context ^^)

“Jesus, Sassy, you’re gonna make me trip!”

Daniel giggles, narrowly missing what seems like a very painful encounter with the floor. Sassy, the little shit, just blinks at him, completely unbothered. 

“Come here, kitty. Where did you leave your toys, huh?”

He leans down, and Sassy immediately scrambles to climb in his arms, her little trimmed nails stinging a bit, but Daniel got used to it after a while. Max says she hates to be picked up, but Sassy loves to curl up in Daniel’s arms or drape over his shoulder like a fuzzy scarf. Daniel thinks it’s more that Sassy doesn’t like random people barging in and trying to pick her up without asking for permission. He pets her, chuckling when she nuzzles in the crook of his elbow, her little wet nose pressed against his skin, and starts to purr softly. 

“You’re a spoiled little princess, aren’t you, Sassy girl?” 

Daniel makes his way to the living room, swearing when he almost trips again, this time because of the numerous cat toys spread around the living room floor. Now that he sees it, he can’t help but notice the sheer amount of toys scattered everywhere. Taking advantage of his distracted state, Sassy gracefully jumps down from his arms, pouncing on one of the many little mice toys on the floor. Daniel sighs. 

He doesn’t especially want to clear the room from toys, but it’s getting a bit too dangerous to have them scattered around like that. One of them will end up falling, he’s sure of it.

He sits down on the couch, pondering the issue. Jimmy comes to curl up on his lap after a while, deciding it’s the perfect spot for an impromptu nap, and Daniel carefully pets him. He didn’t think of himself as a cat person, but he had learned to love the two little fur babies, like Max calls them, and he couldn’t deny that cuddling and playing with them was relaxing. 

Little fur babies. They were kind of like Max’s kids, to be fair.

Wait.

Didn’t some kids have a playroom for their toys?

If he was in a cartoon, Daniel is sure a metaphorical lightbulb would have lit up right next to his head.

A playroom!

Daniel was going to build a playroom for Jimmy and Sassy, and he was going to do it all by himself! He certainly had enough rooms to spare, and the kitty cats definitely deserved a space dedicated to them. He’s sure Maxy will love the surprise, too. 

Sassy leaves her toys, deciding to come and snuggle against his thigh. Daniel watches for a while as the two cats nap, before pulling out his phone, ordering some material. 

He was going to build the best cat playroom the world has ever seen, all for their little fur babies.

fic ask game!

[a-most-beloved-fool]

For the writing prompts;

19. For luck - Rom and Leeta

"And then," Bashir was saying - though in truth, Rom was paying only half attention, far too busy thinking about Leeta - "she came right up to me, and kissed me on the lips!"

"Oh, she did, did she?" Chief O'Brien said, scoffing good-naturedly.

"It's true!" Bashir insisted, though he didn't look insulted by the Chief's doubt. He was smiling into his glass, seeming quite delighted by the disbelieving frown on O'Brien's face.

Rom didn't quite understand what was supposed to be so 'unbelievable' about the story. In fact - "It seems pretty believable to me," he said. "Doctor Bashir's always kissing beautiful women." (Including, at one point, Leeta - though not anymore, Rom thought with some pleasure.)

"Yes, but this one was out of his league," the Chief said, batting his hand playfully across the table.

Bashir just smiled bashfully, ignoring the swipe. "Ah, well. You're right about that. She wasn't really interested in me after all. Turns out, she'd just misconstrued the human concept of a 'good luck kiss'".

"Ohh! A 'good luck kiss'!" Rom said eagerly. Then, after a pause, "Uh, what's a 'good luck kiss'?"

The Chief sat back, idly crossing his arms. "Well, it's pretty much exactly what it sounds like. It's a kiss that you give someone to wish them luck."

"Oh," Rom said, considering that. Luck was always a good thing to have. Perhaps... "Oh! Leeta!" He stood, sending his chair clattering backwards. "I'll be back!" he shouted, then raced from Quark's bar, ignoring his brother's parting shout out dismay.

He needed to find Leeta.

--

"Leeta! Waaaait!" Rom hollered, shuffling through the crowded promenade as quickly as he could manage, chasing after her familiar voice. "Leeta! I need to give you something!"

This would be easier, he thought, if Bajorans could hear as well as Ferengi could.

But, at last, Leeta stopped, turning to find him. "Rom? Rom, what's the matt-"

The rest of her sentence trailed off into a hum as Rom reached up, pulling her down to plant a kiss square on her lips. One of her hands cupped Rom's cheek, soft. Rom didn't really know how long a 'good luck kiss' was supposed to last for - he really should have gotten more details before running off (for example, does it need tongue? Bashir never specified.) - but he thought that this should satisfy it.

He pulled away, grinning toothily up at his wife. "Hi, Leeta," he said.

She smiled down at him, cheeks flushed and lovely as always. "Hi, Rom. What was that for?" she asked, looking bemused and delighted.

"It's a kiss," Rom said, perhaps unnecessarily. "For luck," he added. "It's a hoo-man tradition!"

"For luck? Rom," she asked, laughing, "what are you wishing me luck for?"

Rom blinked. "Uhhh... For your day?"

Leeta beamed at him, and then leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Well, I think it worked. I do feel pretty lucky now."

Rom grinned. "Me, too."

--

(also if anyone else wants to make a request, the ask game is here. i can't promise they'll get done as quick or be as long as this one is, though!)

[miasmaghoul]

could you do 30 with swissdew please?

From this list.

#30 - as comfort

-----

Dew stares at the wall of his bunk, hugging his knees to his chest. It's dark, too dark to see much beyond the divot where his phone sits, but Dew's spent enough nights in this cramped little hole to be able to reach out and touch the photos he keeps taped to the faux wood paneling. Memories of home - shots of his favorite places at the abbey, of his pack, his life. Things that bring him back to baseline when it gets too hard to keep his feet on the ground.

He thinks he's done pretty well on this leg, all things considered. It's been a busy run, more hectic than any of them expected; equipment issues, damages, road flu - all more than enough to keep them occupied, distracted. Enough to keep him from dwelling on the things he misses the most. The things he craves.

His touch lingers on one photo in particular, worn and creased and torn at the corners, and Dew can't help the sad smile that curves his lips. Alone in the dark, he doesn't mind whispering to its subject.

"Miss you, Aeth."

It's not like he's been without Aether. Not really. Video calls most every night, texting whenever they're both awake, swapping pictures and stories. They're about three quarters through this leg now, but their frequency of contact hasn't waned. He's grateful for it - he'd discovered the hard way that he can't find sleep if he doesn't hear Aether’s voice before bed.

Which, unfortunately, is why he's here now. Staring blindly as a photo whose details he's committed to memory and imagining the soothing gravel of Aether's words. It's not his fault they couldn't talk tonight - Aether had sent him a message telling Dew that Sister Imperator had fallen ill. Nothing too serious, but she required direct care that would keep Aether at her bedside for the next couple of days. He swears he isn't upset, swears he understands, but as the minutes tick by Dew can't help but grumble.

Until something rustles behind him, dim light flooding his bunk, and the little ghoul reflexively pulls his hand back under his thin blanket.

"Can't sleep, huh?"

Dew sighs. It may not be the voice he wants to hear, but it's deep and raspy and familiar and that's better than nothing.

"Not so much." Dew groans as he stretches his legs, shuffling over to face the source of the intrusion. Swiss leans on his elbow, head tilted. Even in the low light Dew can see his eyes sparkling, but they're baggy. "You?"

"I was tryin'," Swiss murmurs, scratching at his chest, "but you sigh louder than you think, Sparky."

A large hand ruffles his hair, the same spot Swiss always goes for when his horns aren't glamoured away, and Dew can't help but lean into it despite the warmth the words force into his cheeks.

"Sorry," he mumbles, tugging his blanket to his chin. "Didn't realize. I'll keep it down."

"Psh," Swiss waves at the air, dismissive. "I didn't roll outta bed to complain, shortstack." Dew quirks an eyebrow. "C'mon, let's talk about it."

The little ghoul huffs, shakes his head, but Swiss pays him no mind. He's already hoisting himself up into the bunk with a less than graceful series of grunts, an awkward endeavor that has Dew snorting into his lumpy pillow. Swiss pokes him in the shoulder once he's up, and Dew sticks his tongue out in response. Swiss tugs the curtain shut behind him, plunges them back into darkness, and Dew doesn't complain when a heavy arm settles around his waist.

"So," Swiss shuffles close enough to share his pillow, until Dew can smell the toothpaste on his breath, "what's on your mind?"

On a normal night, Dew would shush him. Tell him it wasn't his problem, that he's just having a bad night. Maybe he'd make something up about his knee bothering him, just to shut Swiss up. Anything would be easier than admitting why, exactly, he can't sleep. An embarrassing little secret that he'd rather not expose, one he's certain that Swiss wouldn't have any problem using against him.

Swiss rubs their noses together, rubs his back, and maybe it's just the exhaustion clouding his mind but Dew thinks the risk is worth the reward.

"I have this...ritual, I guess," he mutters, working an arm out from his blanket and getting hold of the hem of Swiss' shirt. Something to fidget with. "Every night, we talk. Me 'n Aeth," he clarifies, though he suspects he doesn't have to. "It uh. It helps me sleep. Hearing his voice, I mean. Makes it seem like he's not so far away, y'know?" Dew clears his throat, refusing to let the tightness there worm its way into his voice. Swiss hums, but doesn't interrupt. A rarity. "But tonight...he couldn't. Talk, I mean. Doesn't matter why, but it's a good reason. A real reason. But..." he pauses, chews the inside of his cheek. Swiss strokes along his spine, and Dew wishes he could purr in his glamour. "It's only happened three times," he adds with a sniff. "Three times we haven't talked, for this whole tour." Dew yawns, and a warm rush of breath tells him Swiss mirrors it. "And when that happens I just...can't sleep. It's like...when we talk, it's like he's here. And when we don't..."

Dew drifts off into silence, gives a half shrug, and Swiss doesn't ask him for anything more. The little ghoul forces himself to take a deep breath, scooting himself closer to the warm body before him, and Swiss hooks a leg over his without a word. Pulls him close, that huge hand firm between his shoulderblades, and Dew can't believe how good it feels just to be held.

"Look at me, Sparky," he rumbles after a minute, and Dew does. Finds those glittering eyes, twin rings of gold bright even in the dark, and the softness in them is something so foreign it makes his heart skip. Swiss' other hand comes up to cup his cheek, thumb grazing his cheekbone. He presses their foreheads together, and his breath catches in his throat.

This kiss isn't a surprise. A gentle press of Swiss' lips to his own, warm and soft. His fingers slip into Dew's hair and the little ghoul sighs through his nose, his own hand slipping around Swiss' waist just as Swiss licks at his lower lip. Dew can't hold in his whimper, only too happy to open up and let Swiss inside. It's slow, indulgent, not at all the type of kiss he's used to from Swiss, but the subtle warmth that blooms in his chest couldn't be more welcome.

He's not even out of breath when Swiss pulls back, just pleasantly tingly and much more relaxed than he was a minute ago. He huffs out a soft laugh when Swiss kisses the tip of his nose.

"Think I needed that," Dew admits, eyelids already growing heavier.

"Just thought I'd remind you that you're not alone," Swiss lilts, pleased. He scratches at the little ghoul's scalp, a motion that makes Dew's ear twitch. "Not unless you wanna be."

"Yeah?" Dew nuzzles his cheek, relishing the scratch of Swiss' stubble. "You promise?"

"'Course," Swiss chuckles, dragging Dew flush to his chest. "Want another reminder?"

"Gonna kiss me to sleep?"

"As much as it takes, fireball."

For the first time tonight, Dew smiles.

[in-my-loki-feels]

👈 lokius

Thank you for the prompt! <3 This one was also requested by lokiloving. I may try to do a second ficlet, but there are other asks I want to get to first so please enjoy this for now! (Also thank you to @devilbearingtrouble for helping with a clunky bit of this. Please read her take on this prompt. It's so good!!)

cw NSFW (but come on, look at the prompt)

8.👈 Fingers in mouth/on lips

“If you're not going to eat it, why get it?” Mobius asked, feeling a little petulant on behalf of the neglected pie. It was a waste of a meal token, not to mention delicious pie.  Loki glanced down at the neon green slice in front of him.  “I’m eating it,” he said, and picked up his fork to swirl it through the perfect dollop of whipped cream on top. Mobius sighed.   “You're not eating it, you're playing with it.” “No, I'm playing with you,” Loki said, his green eyes locking onto Mobius with sudden intent. “Or I’d like to.”

It was such a sudden shift in behavior, it snatched Mobius’ breath. Loki had been relaxed in his chair, a smile teasing his lips. Now he looked at Mobius like a hunter eyeing prey. It was the sort of shift Mobius had seen Loki pull in Sacred Timeline footage, but never since arriving at the TVA.  “Very funny,” Mobius said, trying to move past the strange moment by cutting off another piece of his own pie. As he brought it to his lips, he looked across the table and saw Loki had given up the fork; instead, he swiped some of the whipped cream with his finger. Loki’s lips curved as he mirrored the path of Mobius’ fork, bringing his own finger to his mouth and closing his lips around it.  Mobius almost choked on his piece of pie. Loki took his time cleaning his finger, while Mobius coughed and tried to get the remains down without inhaling more. Heat suffused him, concentrating in his face—which had to be bright red—and pooling in his crotch.  “What—” He broke off with another cough.  “You know, something about mine simply doesn’t taste right,” Loki mused. He uncrossed those long legs of his, rising to his full height, and stepped over to Mobius’ side of the table. The wicked light hadn’t left his green eyes. He put one hand on the table beside Mobius’ plate, bending down so they were nearly eye to eye.  As Mobius watched, his mouth falling open, Loki stuck his finger—the same one he’d just cleaned cream off of—into what remained of the whipped cream on Mobius’ slice of pie. Then he brought it to his mouth and wrapped his fingers around it slowly, holding Mobius’ gaze as he did. His jaw moved, just enough for Mobius to imagine what Loki was doing with his tongue, and then he pulled his finger free with a pop.  Mobius felt frozen in his chair, unable to do anything but watch the events unfold. His heart pounded in his ears, rushing more blood south where he was already hard.   “That doesn’t taste quite right either,” Loki said. “It’s missing something…”  Mobius jumped when Loki took hold of his hand, his fork clattering to the table. Loki folded down all of Mobius' fingers down except his index finger, then guided Mobius’ hand down to dip that finger into the whipped cream. There was hardly any left, just enough to coat the skin.  Mobius felt like everything in the automat had come to a stop except Loki, who brought Mobius’ finger up to his mouth and slowly wrapped his lips around it.  Warm and wet were the first things Mobius thought and then ohhh, as Loki curled his tongue around Mobius’ finger. Mobius jerked in his chair as the sensation went straight down through his body to his cock. He moaned as Loki closed his eyes and sucked, even though there couldn’t have been anything left. Loki pulled Mobius’ finger out, keeping his lips tight around it until it was free, then opened his eyes and smiled.  “That’s what I was looking for,” he purred.

Prompts are here. Other ficlets here.

[its-all-papaya]

Okay hear me out. Landoscar & 18 but like. It's towards the end of an exhausting triple-header, they're both tired as hell and have seen more of each other than any other breathing thing (because of the jetting around the world to get to races and because they're both idiots not confessing their feelings to each other). So. They say goodnight to each other as always after idek, playing Fifa, but this time one of them steps in and in their exhaustion accidently doesn't only clasp the other's hand but presses a kiss to the corner of the mouth as well. Without noticing (?) and with the other one only noticing after a few seconds (?). Gay panic follows. Idk what happens before or after but. Do you see the vision.

I SEE THE VISION, anon. don't you worry.

send me a ship and a number and i will write a kiss

18. casually | landoscar | 1.1k (lol)

In theory, Lando’s probably been doing this long enough to know better. He’s been in Formula 1 for six seasons and he’s been driving in time zones outside his own for more than twice that long, but coping mechanisms don’t grow on trees. Or they do, maybe, if he thinks about it… Jon had given him a packet at some point about sleep schedules and adjusting, and paper comes from trees, and so if he thinks about it kind of sideways, maybe his healthy coping mechanism had grown on a tree, and he’d just failed to read it before losing it in a drawer somewhere. Or maybe (and this is his leading option), he's just really fucking tired.

In his defense, Oscar isn’t doing any better.

They’d kept up pretenses exactly one day into the doubleheader, then Lando’d received the hey, are you awake? message at 1:45 a.m. local time on Thursday night in Baku, and who was he to ignore that kind of thing? He’s just a man, really. He receives a ‘you up?’ text and his sweatshirt is zipped over his bare chest before he can blink. Pavlovian, or some shit. Even if it’s not actually like that. He’s too tired to know the difference. Or something.

At any rate, if neither of them is going to sleep anyway, it doesn’t really matter if they’re lying in their own beds with their eyes closed or if they’re lying on a couch together playing Fifa. Or not lying together, but, like… both on the same couch. Lying down. Playing Fifa. The point is, it’ll be 4 a.m. and they’ll both be up either way, at least this way they’re less miserable. And Lando won’t tell Kim if Oscar doesn’t tell Jon and neither of them tell Zak or Andrea.

By the time they hit Saturday night in Baku, they’re both kind of adjusted, which is good. They don’t even make it to the part of the night where he can lay his head on Oscar’s thigh and blame it on the proximity to sunrise, which is really cool. Lando sleeps, like…a normal amount ahead of the race. That’s important.

But see, Lando’s not going to not go home between races, and he’s not going to sleep at 5 p.m. in Monaco either, so it’s Thursday night in Singapore and he’s up the fucking creek again, and if Oscar’s asleep, he can totally just ignore Lando’s text. Again, Lando is just a man. A sleepy one. Who would rather be exhausted on Oscar’s couch than exhausted anywhere else.

Oscar’s up on Thursday night, though, and he’s up on Friday night, too, except by then they’ve skipped the texting part and Lando’s just showed up at Oscar’s hotel room a few hours after dinner. Oscar rolls his eyes when he opens the door, but he’s smiling when he does it, and he’s already got Fifa up when Lando reaches the living room, so he’s not actually any fucking better than Lando, the muppet.

On the bright side (or, like… one of multiple bright sides, if Lando wants to be honest, which he doesn’t, thanks), they’re both pretty decent at Fifa now. They’ve played enough rounds in barely over a week that they’re getting kind of predictable to one another, and that makes Lando’s chest feel kind of stupid. Just the thought that Oscar knows him that well. Again. Tired. Just a man. His brain is basically mush, everyone’s lucky he’s even hitting the right buttons. It does eventually get the tiniest bit boring, though, at like 1 a.m., so Lando turns to Oscar after losing his second straight and asks want to watch a film, or something?

He makes Oscar choose which one while he flicks the lights off (for the best viewing, obviously), then settles back next to him on the couch a really, really normal distance away. It’s something he’s seen before, so he’s following the plot but drifting a little, too, until the next thing he knows, he’s jerking awake with a sharp breath in. Oscar’s looking down at him apologetically – down because Lando’s head is on his shoulder – and thumbing over the ball of Lando’s knee.

“Sorry,” he says, and, “didn’t mean to startle you. You should go to your bed, though.”

Which, like… makes sense. Even if Lando was definitely having the best nap of the doubleheader, hands down, just now.

Oscar probably wants to go to sleep too, though, so Lando picks himself up off the couch and yawns and makes a show of stretching before putting his shoes back on, just to make sure Oscar feels a little bad for how he’s putting Lando out.

He reaches the door while Oscar’s still doing something in the living area. It becomes apparent what when he appears with Lando’s phone in hand, sleepy smug smirk on his sleepy smug face. Ugh.

“Might want it for your alarm,” he wiggles it between his fingers and pads over to Lando and Lando’s still half-asleep, which is his excuse for forgetting to hold a hand out for it, but it really doesn’t matter anyway, because Oscar just slides it right into the kangaroo pocket of Lando’s hoodie for him. Really cool. Mint, actually.

“Mint,” Lando says.

Oscar laughs. His eyes are especially crinkly past 2 a.m. He says “thanks for coming by” - even though Lando’s the one who started it tonight - and holds out his hand.

Lando clasps it. “Meeting’s late tomorrow, right?” he asks.

“Yeah, like 2:00 or something,” Oscar says.

“Mint,” Lando says. It makes Oscar laugh again, and Lando can’t really tell why, but, like…whatever works.

“Yeah?” Oscar’s smile is so nice around the word.

“Yeah.”

Oscar squeezes his hand, which is how Lando realizes he’d forgotten to let go in the first place. Oh, well. Late and all. Time change, jetlag… yeah.

He finally does let go, though, then pats Oscar on the hip and kisses him on the side of the mouth and says “Night, Osc.”

“Night, Lando,” Oscar says back. Then his eyes narrow. It’s a funny sort of expression that Lando hasn’t seen on him before, so he tilts his head a little, trying to figure out what’s put it there. It takes a good few seconds longer than it probably should, but Lando makes up for it by blushing twice as bright as is reasonable when he finally clocks it.

“Ah, damn,” he says through a giggle, which is probably not the appropriate response, all things considered, but that makes Oscar laugh, too, so everything’s good.

Oscar flattens his hand on Lando’s back, then, and kisses him square on the lips and says, “too tired to even kiss a mate properly, remind me to kick you out earlier next time,” which is an objectively much weirder way to respond than Lando’s. So, like… they’re even. And Oscar’s still smiling when he pushes Lando out the door. It’s mint.

[herrmannhalsteadproduction]

Buck and Tommy post breakup fwb

Sooo, I know where you probably thought this would go, my Anonymous friend, but I'm sorry to say that writing smut is not my strong suit. 😅 I hope you enjoy this little twist that I did on your prompt instead. Thanks for sending one in!

Here be BuckTommy post break-up fwb...of a sorts:

"Wow, Ev—Buck," Tommy said, reminding himself once again, trying not to slip and trip over their new boundaries.

He dragged a hand through his hair and blew out a breath, more than a little bit overwhelmed at the amount of baked goods currently gracing his kitchen table. Beautifully iced cupcakes, brightly colored macarons, and the most insanely delectable looking tarts he'd ever seen.

He was going to put everyone else at the Harbor Potluck to shame.

And it wasn't even his doing.

"When you said that you wanted to try being 'friends with benefits'," Tommy began, choosing his words carefully as he tread through this completely new territory. "This isn't exactly what I thought you meant."

"Well," Buck—Evan, always Evan in his heart— said, shrugging bashfully as a light blush worked its way up his cheeks. "I thought it was about time to try something new."

Tommy couldn't help but think he might be on to something...

(This was for this ask game if you want to give it a go, but fair warning that I'm apparently doing some very loose interpreting of the prompts 😂)

[rosyhoneydew]

19 + bucktommy 🫶

thank you, love!!! <3

19. …for luck.

"Maybe I should watch. J- just one more time," Buck says, turning back to look at Tommy again.

He's watched 15 times - at least - but the idea of his boyfriend putting his own life in Buck's hands... still roils his gut from nerves.

"I'll be right there with you," Tommy reassures, hands on Buck's shoulders. "I've seen you up there, sweetheart, I know you can do this."

"What if I mess up?"

"If you mess up then I'll be sitting just to your right to take over, okay? But you're not going to."

Buck scoffs, smiling a little at Tommy's conviction.

"How do you know, huh?"

Tommy looks over Buck's shoulder, considers the Bell 206 they've spent the last 4 off days flying together. He makes an exaggerated hmm noise, like he's thinking about it real hard.

"Because of this."

He pulls Buck in close by the waist and kisses him long and firm. He keeps it pretty chaste (they are in public after all), but when he pulls back he pecks Buck's mouth one more time for good measure.

"What was that for?" Buck says, smiling when they part.

"For luck," Tommy says, winking at him. "Now there's no way you'll mess up."

It's a bit silly to think of one kiss as the hinge of fate for the first flight he's piloting, but he can't ignore the way the nerves slip away after that; replaced by the memory of Tommy's lips on his own, and the knowledge that as long as his boyfriend is there beside him, he's safe.

[eqt-95]

Hi hello! I found the ask game related to the hearts finally so I’ll ask for 🤎 for supercorp if it sparks joy?

oh it does, it does spark joy! many thanks for the ask from both of you.

🤎 multiple kisses / kisses all over / kiss after kiss

- - - - - - -

“We’re playing Doctor!” Kara shouted excitedly when Alex, Kelly, and Lena walked in to find the apartment in absolute disarray, Kara mummified with ace bandages, covered in stickers, and talking past a thermometer sticking out of her mouth, and Esme unraveling a ball of yarn.

“During an apocalypse?” Alex asked, bypassing the pile of forgotten pillows and cushions, over the stacks of books, and through the disaster zone of puzzle pieces and legos. 

“I’m a warrior injured from battle,” Kara scoffed, annoyance on her scrunched face. “See the armor?”

It was nearly impossible to see the cardboard cutouts from under all of the gauze.

“Yea, and I am her princess and the world’s best nurse,” Esme added. She reached for Kara’s hand and began tying the yarn around her wrist. “We just need to lift your arm to rest,” Esma continued, trying gallantly to hoist Kara’s arm.

“Is that my emergency med pack?” Alex asked, eyeing the black canvas bag wearily and the equipment scattered around it. 

“We ran out of band-aids,” Esme explained. “But don’t worry, we didn’t use yours. They were too boring.”

“You should get the colorful kind like the Bluey ones,” Kara added.

Before Alex could get a word, or sigh of resignation in, Esme extended her hand toward her: “Can you hold this, please?”

And that’s how Alex got roped into holding the length of rainbow yarn to elevate Kara’s very unbroken arm while Esme removed the thermometer from Kara’s mouth.

“Uh-oh,” she scowled.

“Uh-oh?” Kara asked with exaggerated worry. “What’s wrong nurse?”

“Just what I susepted.”

“Suspected, babe,” Kelly offered from the kitchen where she and Lena exchanged smirks at Alex’s expense.

“Right, suspested,” Esme said. “It’s bad news.”

“How bad, Nurse?”

“We need to cut off your arm.”

“What? Isn’t there anything else? A disgusting herb? A powerful potion?” Kara rambled. “I really need my arm to hold a sword.”

“Hmm,” Esme pondered. “There is one thing. But it’s magic” “Anything,” Kara said without missing a beat. “Please, Nurse, please!”

“Ok. Are you ready?”

Kara grimaced, clenched her eyes shut and nodded. 

In turn, Esme gave Kara’s elbow a quick kiss. “You’re healed!”

Kara opened one eye and peered toward her arm still held up by Alex and yarn. She cautiously flexed her fingers then rolled her wrist and rotated her elbow. “I’m healed!”

“Yes, you’re healed. Now please leave my house,” Alex mumbled.

------

“Hey,” Lena said when Kara stirred. 

“Hey, back,” Kara mumbled, reaching for Lena’s hand to squeeze. She hummed then opened her eyes, finding Lena then offering a dopey grin. A sign Lena could sigh with relief. “Was I out long?”

“A couple hours. You didn’t completely blow your powers, so you should recover quickly.”

Kara nodded then winced as she sat up. “And the others?”

“J’onn and Dreamer handled the rest,” Lena explained, helping adjust a pillow. “You provided enough distraction that no one else was injured.”

“Tell that to my face,” Kara huffed, lifting a hand to rub her jaw. “I think I need Nurse Esme to make me all better.”

“I think Nurse Esme is in the middle of show-and-tell,” Lena replied. “But I’ll see if Alex has a Bluey band-aid for you.”

“Or,” Kara said, then blushed beet red. “Or we could try magic.”

“I am not about to…” Lena squinted then rolled her eyes. “Oh, I see. You don’t mean my magic.”

“Well, it-it would kind of be your magic,” Kara replied, fingers worrying at the blanket in her lap. “Just, a different kind.”

Lena refrained from rolling her eyes again when Kara offered the biggest, sappiest look. 

“If you think it’ll work,” Lena answered, and she pretended not to see the glee in Kara’s face.

“It would. It really would.”

And that’s how Lena found herself pressing a kiss to Kara’s eagerly lifted cheek.

“There. Better?” Lena chuckled, leaning back into her chair and missing the way Kara’s face chased after Lena’s retreated lips.

“Um…” Kara answered, a bit downtrodden with her lower lip beginning to protrude outward.

“Um?”

“It’s just that, actually I’m pretty sure it was my left side.”

Lena tried containing a smile and resisted letting a disbelieving eyebrow arc. “Is that right?”

“I guess I forgot?”

“Maybe I should get Alex in here to check for brain damage,” Lena teased.

“No, no, it’s ok. I just… I’m still groggy and sleepy, but I just need a little more, um…”

“Magic?”

“Exactly. Then I’ll be all better.”

A kiss landed on Kara’s other temple. “Was it here?” Lena asked, lips still pressed against warm skin.

“A-a bit lower,” Kara answered, face flushing red.

“How about here?” Lena asked, offering another kiss an inch lower.

“Getting uhm,” Kara coughed. “Getting closer?”

Lena continued trailing kisses down the length of Kara’s jawline, no longer waiting for Kara’s fibs to guide her. 

“How’s that, darling?” Lena asked when the final one landed at the edge of Kara’s mouth.

“Just one more,” Kara answered, tugging a laughing Lena onto the bed and pressing a final kiss to her lips. “There,” she sighed. “All healed.”

[imagionationstation]

🩺 with the Disaster Twins!

🩺 -> Worst bedside manner ever

“If you so much as touch me-!”

“You know I need to look-!”

“-going to tie me down-!”

“-wouldn’t have to if you’d stay still-!”

“-get Shelldon in here with the last resort-!”

“-get Raph in here to hold you down-!”

“-WOULDN’T DARE-!”

“-DON’T YOU-!”

Donnie’s knee collides with Leo’s chin and the sudden pain makes him released his hold. The surprisingly slippery softshell shoots out of his grip and throws himself away from his desk. He gets to the floor, but the violent movement throws off his balance. He sways dizzily, stumbling as his world swims and heat streaks his face.

Then a hand is on his wrist and he snaps back into reality. “I’M NOT SICK! I’M WORKING!”

“You’re pale as death and three seconds away from passing out!” Leon hisses as he pulls out his sword to open a portal. Donnie’s sweaty hands prevent him from removing the grip. “Infections don’t go away after three hours of sleep!”

“SHELLDON!”

“RAPH-!”

Donnie slaps a hand over his mouth. Leo snatches his arm and drags him through the swirling portal. The light does not help the strain that his eyes are under. He winces hard as the room blurs, unable to prevent his twin from kicking his legs out from under him.

He hits the cot and the rush of air against his exposed shell burns.

The whine claws up and Leo’s harsh glare remains firm. “I can give you something for the pain if you don’t move.”

“If you drug me, I will bite you!”

He scowls. “You already bit me!”

“Didn’t feel good, did it?!”

“I’m just trying to help!”

“I never asked for it!”

“That’s it!”

Leo tears away from Donnie, leaving him grappling for a hold on the cot. He barely gets himself steady, watching him reach into his blue bag and pull out a- sweet banana pancakes, no, no, no-

His sluggish brain doesn’t have a chance to react. Then the needle is in his flesh and the liquid is gone and Leo throws it away confidently, like it isn’t now a hazard that someone will step on later.

“I hate you,” Donnie eloquently says when he can’t fight back the black creeping in the sides of his vision. He falls forward, caught by his twin, a gentle hand on the back of his head to keep it angled on his shoulder. Donnie remains limp, disoriented but still seething.

“Sleepy time.” Leo cooes as if he didn’t just complete a suable course of medical malpractice. Or assault. Or both. “Just relax. I got you.”

Donnie feels the hiss leave his teeth. The black creeps in closer.

His shell burns. This is not good. He feels awful. This is not good. He’s touching him. This is not good. His shell hurts. This is not good. His head hurts it’s not good STOP TOUCHING HIM-

“Shhh.” Leo reassures, voice sickingly calm. “Big bro’s got you.”

OH HE IS NOT-

Fingers lightly brush the wound. Pain jolts up his spine.

Something tilts. The black drags him down.

Thank you!! 💜💙

[mollywog]

Roommate

Fake Fic Ask Game by @vasilissadragomir

🐑 (fake set of fic tags): modern au roommates, mutual pining, jealous!katniss, hot chocolate, meddling!Prim, misunderstandings

She’s smiling down at her phone when Prim snaps her fingers in front of the screen, “Are you even listening?”

“Oh! Yeah! Sorry,” Katniss says, placing her phone face down on the table.

“Who are you talking to anyways?” Her sister eyes the phone with curiosity and Katniss covers it with her hand lest Prim resort to snooping, “are you seeing someone?! You’re giddy, it’s weird”

“God no,” she has no desire for that, “Peeta’s doing a grocery run and asked about snacks.” They were going to watch Jurassic Park tonight and he’d sent her a picture of a bag of frozen Dino nuggets.

“Sounds cozy. What does Nutmeg think about her boyfriend Netflix-and-chill-ing with his super hot roommate?”

Katniss rolls her eyes, “Clove’s not in the picture anymore.” She doesn’t get it. Peeta’s the best, but his taste in women is the worst. She’d taken to giving them petty nicknames rather than learning their real ones. The latest had been a real cloven hoofed bitch.

“Oh,” Prim perks up, “So, are you gonna make a move?”

God, not her too! Maybe she’s been talking to Finnick. He keeps insisting she’s in love with Peeta. She’s not and the accusation is annoying, “No,” She says, tone firm, “Peeta and I are friends. Just friends.”

“Hmm” her sister sounds unconvinced.

“Hmm what?”

“I think you like him.”

“Of course I like him, he’s my friend.”

“Come on Katniss. You talk about him constantly, you spend all your spare time together, and you’ve hated every girl he’s ever given a second look.”

“Yeah, because they all sucked.”

“- his dick, and you were jealous.” Prim adds.

Katniss bulks, “don’t talk like that. Who raised you?”

“We all know who raised me. Don’t try to duck the topic! So, you’d be fine with him dating someone you approve of?”

Katniss shrugs, “of course,” it’s a trick question, because she can’t imagine anyone good enough for him.

“What about me?” Prim says, as if following her line of thought, “I must meet your standards. What if I started dating Peeta? You wouldn’t have a problem with that?”

“Didn’t know you were interested.” Why does her voice sound so high all of the sudden?

“I don’t know; maybe it’s all your glowing about how great he is. Answer the question.”

“I mean it would be weird, because you're my sister,” she says haltingly, “but obviously I think you’re amazing,” she briefly imagines Peeta leading Prim to his bedroom, and wants to vomit.

“So you’d be completely fine if I asked him out?” Prim eggs.

Her discomfort is overcome by a flare of annoyance at the challenge. “Want me to put in a good word for you?” She snarks.

“Nah.” Katniss exhales, feeling a little lighter. Maybe this will finally put the whole thing to rest, but then her sister continues with a smirk, “I’m a big girl, I don’t need your help.”

Part 2 | Part 3 or Ao3

[shineon3]

HELLO GUESS WHO HAS FINISHED WORK

(it's me)

Danyul and whoever you'd like to put him with, and sleepy/drugged/drunk confessions for the ask game 🥳

From here. Hiii lovely!! Thank you for the fun prompt ^^ (For context, this is set in the 'Me and Mine' verse, in the early years of Max and Daniel's relationship)

“Oh, baby, this is hilarious!”

Daniel laughs, a loud, honking noise, hand slapping against his thigh. Max pouts next to him, cheeks deliciously flushed, and he has half a mind to spread him over the couch and worship his body all night, but the game they’re playing right now is almost just as fun as reducing his angel to messy babbles and moans.

Speaking of which, his Maxy gives him a playful punch to the shoulder, and he can’t help but tease him some more. 

“Cmon, sweetheart, you can’t tell me that’s not funny! I can’t believe you got that shitfaced.”

“Shut up, Daniel!”

His darling is definitely drunk right now, slurring his words, and it highlights his adorable little lisp, the way his tongue curls around Daniel’s name. They’ve been sharing a bottle of some liquor Daniel had been gifted, passing it back and forth between them while playing some drinking game Max had discovered on the internet. 

“Okay, okay, I’ve got another question, Maxy. Is there anything embarrassing that turns you on?”

“Wha-” Max chokes a bit on his spit, cheeks even more red. “That’s not fair, you asked two questions in a row!” 

“Ah, ah, ah, angel,” Daniel tuts, playful, flicking the blonde’s nose. “Should I remind you that you asked two questions in the last round? I’m only playing by your rules, ya know?”

“Ugh, fine!”

The blonde takes a moment to think about his answer, and Daniel watches him intently, a smile stretching his lips.

It’s always relaxing, watching his Maxy, no matter what the younger is up to. It helps Daniel settle, knowing his boy is close by and safe. It also helps the ugly, feral thing inside him settle, helps the voices usually accompanying his thoughts go quiet, hushed, no longer frantically hunting for their next victim. It’s the Max effect, as he likes to call it in the privacy of his own thoughts. 

When his angel takes a bit too long to answer, Daniel decides to poke his forehead, and he’s a bit surprised to see Max looking away. 

“Maxy?”

“You won’t… you won’t judge, right…?”

The question takes him by surprise, the younger's voice small and hesitant, but he’s quick to pull Max in his arms, reassuring him. 

“Of course, Maxy. We don’t judge, here, darling, not now, not ever, okay? This is a safe space, and you don’t even have to tell me if you don’t want to.” 

Max just nods, humming quietly against him, and Daniel doesn’t push, one hand around his boy and the other gently carding through the blonde’s hair. 

“Your… your knives…,” Max whispers quietly, so quiet that he has to strain his ears to hear it. “It’s… they’re kind of… when you use them…”

“Yeah, baby? You like ‘em?” 

The younger just nods, face hidden against Daniel’s side. Daniel presses a kiss to the top of his head, the familiar itch to pull his blade and draw blood thrumming through his veins, this time followed by the just as familiar burning heat of arousal. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, that’s hot,” Daniel grins, predatory, relishing in the little shiver going through his angel’s body as their eyes meet. He gets up, scooping the blonde in his arms before making his way to the bedroom. “We’re gonna need to talk some more about it later, set everything up, but I’m definitely on board, baby.”

Whatever reply Max might have had is lost in his moans, but that’s okay. They’ll have time to talk and arrange a proper scene later, after he makes a mess of his pretty angel.