#double drabble

[infiniteeight8]

Avengers work meeting suddenly becoming a meeting to complaint about Tony and Stephen's (in)discreet PDA.

“All right,” Rhodey said, making a note. “Tony and Stephen should be able to determine whether this thing is technological or magical. I’ll ask them to look into it.”

“Assuming you can get them to stop making out long enough,” someone muttered.

Rhodey looked up from his notes, but there was no indication of who had spoken. “They still get the work done.”

“We know, Rhodes,” Natasha said. She smiled wryly, “But you have to admit they are…”

“Shameless?” Carol filled in. “The other day Tony practically had his hand down Stephen’s pants. In the kitchen.”

Sam snorted. “I’ve caught them making out in the gym so many times I’ve started knocking before going in.”

“Better the gym than the locker room,” Clint put in, pained. “I’m no prude, but I did not need to see that much of Tony. Or Stephen.”

Rhodey spread his hands. “Look, I could ask them to tone it down, but you know Tony. He’s liable to take it as a challenge.”

“Maybe Strange can—” Natasha started, but Carol shook her head. 

“Stephen apparently finds Tony completely irresistible,” she said.

“I’m glad they’re happy,” Rhodey said. “I really am. But—”

They all echoed his sigh.

[1u11ablues]

“Who were you with?” (John Price x reader)

Price pulls the ribbon off the flowers he got for you, the half-filled vase standing on your kitchen counter, ready for its arrangement.

A video played on his tablet. Ten minutes of someone giving a quick-class on how to make sure flowers stay fresher longer.

Just one of those things one does when they really, really like someone.

Your laughter seeps through the thin walls. He'd hoped to surprise you with the arrangement while you head out to pick up the freshly done laundry from the flat laundromat, until-

A much deeper laughter followed yours soon after.

He rushed  to the front door and waited for you to enter before peering his eyes out onto the hallway outside.

"Who were you with?" He asked, immediately taking the laundry basket off your arms to put away later.

Curious, he was merely curious. Nothing more than that.

"Our neighbour," you answered casually. "The compulsive baker I told you about?"

"The lad fed you and made you laugh?"

You burst out in a fit of laughter as you walked into the kitchen. The little gasp at the end letting him know that he picked well. 

"Don't worry, I still like you best."

[starryeyedjanai]

Eddie’s on a mission when he walks into Family Video.

He heads to the horror section and stops in his tracks when he sees a guy sitting on his haunches, shelving tapes.

Eddie can’t help the way his eyes slide to the guy’s ass— the jeans he’s wearing are criminally tight. And it’s a really nice ass.

He nearly swallows his tongue when the guy turns his head to see who walked into the aisle because staring back at him is Steve fucking Harrington.

He watches as Steve gets up and dusts his jeans off before walking over to Eddie.

“Can I help you find something?” Steve asks.

He has a little mustache.

Steve Harrington has a nice ass and a little mustache.

Eddie did not come here to be attacked like this.

Steve raises his eyebrows and Eddie realizes he’s been staring at him for a beat too long.

“Uh, yeah. Do you guys have Possession?” he asks, throat dry.

Steve looks at him curiously before reaching an arm right past Eddie’s head and pulling a VHS from the shelf. He holds it out for Eddie to take.

Eddie snatches it and makes a beeline for the cash register.

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

Freckle face

When Ian flipped him over, he stared a little too long at Mickey's face. A sharp the fuck you lookin’ at was on the tip of his tongue, his mood souring a little. He thought he was gonna fucked senseless, or at least a good fuckin’ makeout, not Gallagher’s lips stretching into a dopey smile. 

“Holy shit,” he said in awe. 

“What?” Mickey snapped. 

“You have freckles.” 

Fuck. 

Mickey’s weren’t as visible as Ian’s were, or rather used to be from how they kinda lightened up since his time working at Kash and Grab, but they came out a little more in the summertime. Honestly, he would’ve thought Ian woulda seen ‘em before now. 

“Whatever, man,” he grumbled. He was gonna turn over if not for Ian taking his face by the chin with one hand. “The fuck-” 

“I never noticed them before,” he said, sounding almost giddy by the discovery. 

“So fucking what?” Mickey scowled. “You gonna finish what you started?” 

But Ian wasn't thinking about that at all. He grinned, using his thumb to trace along Mickey's cheek. “You're so damn cute, Mick.” 

It was spoken so earnestly, Ian's smile was one of adoration. Mickey felt a flush creeping up his face. Nobody ever said things like that to him before, and here Ian was, marveling over some damn freckles. 

“I ain't cute,” Mickey muttered, his gaze tearing away from Ian's face to look over at the wall. 

“You’re cute,” Ian disagreed, noses brushing against each other’s. One hand came to hold the back of his head, tilting his own so he could softly kiss Mickey. “So fucking cute....” 

[airas-story]

Tony starts crying because of Stephen and Stephen is horrified that he made Tony cry?

“Goddammit, you absolute asshole.” Tony’s voice had a strange timber to it that Stephen had never heard before. “If you do this to me…”

Stephen tried to open his eyes; it took too much energy. “Tony?” he asked. The word came out cracked, his mouth dry.

Silence. Then. “Stephen?” Something touched his cheek. “Stephen? Can you open your eyes for me?”

Stephen tried again, managed to crack them open. Tony hovered above him, eyes red with dried tears. “Tony?”

“Stephen,” Tony whispered. “You’re awake.”

“Crying?” he asked. Tony didn’t cry. He’d had a whole treatise about weakness and public faces. “You ‘kay?”

Tony let out a broken laugh. “I am, now,” he said. He pressed a kiss to Stephen’s forehead. “God, Stephen, I thought…” Tony took a ragged breath. “It doesn’t matter. You’re alive. You’re awake. Everything else…”

“You cried.” 

“Guess I found something worth my tears,” Tony whispered. “Let’s not repeat the experience.”

Stephen felt sleep calling for him again and he struggled not to slip away. “Don’t want you to cry.”

“Then don’t go almost dying on me,” Tony retorted. His voice softened. “Close your eyes, sweetheart. Go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[healedlover]

thinking about voyeur bestfriend!suguru who couldn't help but feel a wave of jealousy and pleasure as he watches you bring another man home for the nth time already.

voyeur bestfriend!suguru who's heart (and cock) felt like it was about to explode as he watched your legs wrap around the man's waist, your tits bouncing in the same rhythm he's pounding you in...god he wishes he was the one doing that to you.

but voyeur bestfriend!suguru couldn't help himself to look away. his perverted eyes peered through the crack of the door as his frail fingers wrap onto his searing length, lazily stroking it as his eyes linger on you.

he was so confused, why would you invite him over if you were going to bring another man home, anyway?

your moans filled the secluded room you were in, they grew louder and louder as voyeur bestfriend!suguru's pace on his cock quickened, faster and faster. he was so, so, sooo, clos–

the sound of your shrieking orgasm echoed your whole apartment and both you and suguru came in sync, a sigh escaped his lips and he rested his head against the wall, listening to you and your little one night stand get ready for bed.

— 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ —

its been two weeks since ive written.. sorry :(( but geto's been growing on me so I thought of this <3

[petrifiedforests]

In the eye of the beholder

Written and knitted (more info on that under the cut) for @waxerboilmonth week 1: "Something is different."

"I've got some gold paint left over if you need to touch up some of that too," Waxer said and stuck his tongue back out between his teeth, as he repainted the gold lines on his helmet.

He was lucky that he'd just lifted the brush for the next coat when Boil slammed his bucket down on the bunk with enough force to make it bounce.

Startled, Waxer looked up and came face to face with an irate Boil.

"Wax, I need you to have flight squadron delta scrubbing the fresher floors with their toothbrushes," he demanded. "Or… or the toilet seats!"

"Wha-?" Waxer didn't even get to finish his question before Boil had picked his helmet up again and thrust it towards him.

"Look at this! All paint pots were like that!" he gesticulated wildly. "They contaminated every single one when they painted that twi'lek nose art."

Waxer looked. Well. That was certainly a different color than usual. Very vibrant. Exactly the garish color the deltas had picked for the twi'lek's skin if he had to guess.

"It's not that bad," he tried, even if it really was.

"Not that bad?!" Boil threw his hands up. "It's kriffing pink!"

Knitting background info:

These are about 6,4 cm / 2.5 inches on each side and my first foray into colorwork.

As such, the tension is too high in some places and too loose in others, warping both of them even after blocking (= wetting the piece and pinning it in place until it's dry).

Boil's helmet is a pain in the butt to simplify because half of his paint is only visible from the side. I've included the black silhouette anyways.

All that being said, I am happy with how they turned out because obviously the first time you try something new it's not going to be perfect and needs to be practiced.

[cephalog0d]

Batkid Drabble - "Mimic"

((For @dangerousdan-dan! Reverse Robins AU, ages: Dick - 9, Steph - 18, Tim - 19, Damian - 24.

An important lore note: Damian used to only put on a Gotham accent in costume while dealing with civilians, but someone (Tim) heard him speaking with his natural accent and might possibly had used that to help figure out his identity. No he's not still smug and Damian isn't still bitter, they're grown adults who are totally over this.))

“Ta da!” Steph said as she finished helping Dick into his new sweater and yanked the hood down over his eyes.

Dick giggled and shoved it back into its proper place. The hoodie was definitely a little too big, the sleeves falling down to cover his hands, but it was also soft and warm and had a dark blue chevron design across the chest, subtle but distinctive against the black background.

“You’re a mini-Nightwing!” Steph cooed. “Mitewing!”

Dick folded his arms and put on a serious expression. “Tt. Your footwork is abysmal. I’ve seen fish that could do better,” he said in a shockingly good impression of Damian’s natural accent.

“Nightwing does not sound like that,” Damian pointed out from the doorway (as he uncrossed his arms to make the imitation slightly less accurate).

“Well not anymore,” Tim muttered under his breath. Damian shot him a glare; Steph tried and failed to turn her laugh into a cough.

“Who needs Batman anyway?” Dick said, seamlessly switching to a very passable generic Gotham accent like the one Damian used while in costume.

“Yeah, you get it! Nightwing’s way better.” Steph held out a hand for a fist bump, ignoring Tim’s sigh.

((Cross-posted to AO3))

[firenati0n]

"don't fuck me" - a double drabble for @sherryvalli and a little addition to my deranged tiktok au, An Amateur's Guide to Piping That Cream and Beating That Meat

Look—Alex is a good person, okay? He says please and thank you, treats people with respect, works hard to keep his lightning-fast brain in check, tries not to be too demanding of people's time. 

But, he's standing in the doorway after his run, watching Henry cook breakfast in the kitchen, wearing Alex's nadie me ayuda en esta casa apron. 

And nothing else. 

So, fuck decorum. 

“Baby. What the fuck?”

Henry looks over his shoulder and Alex doesn't know whether to look at his bedhead or his, frankly criminal, ass and thighs framed by the apron. 

“Good morning,” he says with an air of nonchalance as he whisks the eggs. “How was your run?”

Asshole. “Cut the shit, Wales. Are you trying to kill me?” 

Henry turns back to the eggs with a smirk. “Now imagine how I feel scrolling through your ridiculous TikTok page. Thought I'd take a page out of Hips and Salsa’s book.”

Alex plasters himself behind Henry, his thin running shorts doing a poor job of hiding just how much this scene is affecting him. 

“Can I please—”

Henry fills in the necessary blanks. “If you don't fuck me in this apron, then what's the bloody point?”

[jomiddlemarch]

constitute my happiness

“I ought to put my bonnet back on,” Elizabeth sighed. “I know I ought, I know the risk to my complexion and even more, to my tranquility if I freckle as dreadfully as my mother warned me I might and we’re to receive Lady Catherine before I’ve any chance for lemon juice to work.”

“Dearest Elizabeth, it’s England. It rains six days out of seven. Enjoy the sunshine,” her husband replied. It had been far easier than she’d expected to persuade him to leave off his account books to take their afternoon tea in a bright glade she’d discovered rambling over Pemberley’s extensive grounds.

“That’s easy enough for you to say, sir. Should you turn brown as a walnut, no one will think any less of Mr. Darcy. Indeed, they’d likely remark on how healthy you looked, whereas I should be an embarrassment to the very shades of Pemberley,” Elizabeth said.

“You’d never be an embarrassment to Pemberley. Leave the bonnet off.”

“You sound quite determined,” she said.

“It’s far easier to kiss you without the silly thing getting in my way,” he said.

 When she gave him an inquiring look in response, he obliged her by demonstrating at length.

Written for Janeuary 2025 @janeuary-month Day 23, prompt: bonnet

[dixkens]

You Rebuilt My Car

A double-drabble for fest.

--

“You rebuilt my car,” said Bond, stunned.

“Yes,” said Q. “An interesting technical…”

“I could kiss you,” Bond teased.

“Please don’t,” said Q after a nearly imperceptible pause.

His tone was dry and bored. He’d rolled his eyes and was almost the picture of the disinterested quartermaster­—who dealt with multiple deadly, flirtatious agents on a regular basis—almost.

Bond’s life, too often, depended on him noticing the things others didn’t want him to see. And right now, there was something that Q didn’t want him to see.

So, he looked.

“You didn’t rebuild the car I dunked in the Tiber,” said Bond.

“Please,” said Q. “It’s still drying out.”

“Nor the Jag 004 crashed in Monaco.”

“Unsalvageable,” said Q. “Not worth the effort.”

“I’d assumed this was too,” said Bond.

“Recreating the original modifications was an interesting technical challenge,” Q repeated.

“I’m sure.” Bond took a step closer. Q held his ground though there was a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“You rebuilt my car,” said Bond, more gently than the first time. “I could kiss you.”

Not a statement.

An offer.

“Don’t,” said Q, eyes moving restlessly, looking everywhere but at Bond. “Not unless you mean it.”

[infiniteeight8]

Stiles Stilinski and his red clothes

Stiles shrugs out of his hoodie and leaves it draped over the back of Peter’s couch. Peter looks up, exasperated, but when he catches sight of Stiles he stops abruptly, then blows out a hard breath. “Okay, I concede, I have to ask. Are you doing it on purpose?”

“Doing what on purpose?” Stiles asks innocently. Throwing his clothes around is definitely on purpose, but he’s not going to admit it.

“The red,” Peter says. 

Okay, that’s unexpected. Stiles just gives him a blank look.

“The red clothes,” Peter nods at Stiles’s shirt. “You wear red clothes far more than average. Is it on purpose?”

“I… like red?” Stiles offers. 

Peter rolls his eyes. “Little Red Riding Hood, Stiles.”

“Oh!” A laugh bursts out of Stiles. “No, not on purpose. It is kind of thematically appropriate though, isn’t it?” He grins. “I guess that makes you the big bad wolf.”

Peter arches an eyebrow. “Not Derek?”

Stiles scoffs. “Derek might like to act big and bad, but we both know he’s a marshmallow.”

Peter’s smile is pleased. He likes being the big bad one. 

Stiles will definitely not be mentioning that, given the right circumstances, Peter is also a marshmallow.

[dallianceangel]

𝐀 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 🏍️💗

Might turn this into a multi-chapter fic, so please comment if that’s something you’d like to read😊

👋🏼 comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated 👋🏼

“Don’t even bother, Ope,” you sigh heavily, trying to avoid eye contact with the man you once loved. “You’re married, and I’ve got a life to live.”

“I know,” Opie says, trying not to let his emotions show. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye. Now go home to Lyla.”

Exhaling deeply, he decides to walk away, a stray tear rolling down his cheek as he gets back onto his bike. Just as he’s about to start it up, he hears the roaring of a motorcycle edge closer. Turning around, he notices you jumping onto the back of the bike before it speeds away, the rider unknown but most definitely a Mayan.

A few hours later, you find yourself sitting on the back steps outside of a beautiful bungalow, sipping a mug of coffee as you watch the sun begin to set.

You feel someone caress your back, before they sit next to you. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” you whisper, turning around to look at him.

“But not as beautiful as you.”

Snuggling in closer to him, Bishop presses a loving kiss on the top of your head. Sighing contently, you can finally breathe.

You’re never going back to Charming.

[starryeyedjanai]

It takes Steve three days to notice it.

“What in the hell am I looking at?” Steve asks, expression flummoxed.

“That, my dear, is my newest creation,” Eddie says proudly, looking from the yellow painted dachshund/banana figurine back to Steve's face.

He hid it on their bathroom counter, half-obscured by the face wash Steve uses at night. He’s been waiting with baited breath for Steve to find it, lingering by the doorway while Steve washes his face.

Steve picks up the figurine Eddie painstakingly made and holds it in his hand, marveling at it.

“I love him,” Steve says, biting back a grin. “What’s his name?”

“Banana Dog,” Eddie says and Steve wrinkles his nose.

“You can't name a banana dog ‘Banana Dog’. That’s so lame.”

“You name him, then,” Eddie says, crowding closer, wrapping his arms around Steve, kissing his temple.

Steve hums and looks at Eddie’s reflection in the mirror. “He looks like a Jerry.”

Eddie snorts. “Jerry? Okay. Jerry, the banana dog, it is.”

“Tell me about him?” Steve asks, leaning back into his embrace.

Eddie tells him about how the party will meet Jerry and Steve listens on with adoration in his eyes the whole time.

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

"Ay, Mick, where you at?"

Iggy's out of smokes. He knows his brother has some, but whether he'll actually share is debatable.

He hears nothing, and groans at the thought of having to get up. He was fuckin' comfortable, fuck you very much.

Pushing himself up from the chair, Iggy makes his way to the bedroom where Mickey and Gallagher are staying. He thinks they might be boyfriends or some shit. His brother is real protective of Gallagher, always snappin' at Iggy for no damn reason.

Cuz apparently askin' questions like if gay dicks are different than straight ones or if he's actually ever seen a tit was fuckin' wrong?

The door is open a crack. Iggy doesn't think twice before opening it completely, another holler on the tip of his tongue.

He pauses.

Mickey's there, so is Gallagher. They're on the bed, but that's not all. His little brother is all curled up in his boyfriend's arms, head on his chest like he's some chick.

Now that he thinks of it, Iggy's never seen Mick look so peaceful before. There's no tension or nothin'. His brother's chest is rising and falling softly. It's nice, he thinks. Mick's never really had the chance to be relaxed in their family cuz of their pops and all.

Still gay as hell though.

He can come back later for the smokes, he decides. Iggy's about to walk out when he gets an idea. He holds up his phone, taking a quick picture.

Colin ain't gonna believe this shit.

look what these 2 do when they aint fuckin, he sends with the picture attached.

[airas-story]

For your prompts...

Tony requests that Stephen let him scan some active spells to learn about magic and Stephen, deeply pleased that Tony picked him out of everyone, is willing to devote entirely too much time and effort to it

“You’re preening like a peacock,” Wong said, tone exasperated. “I have never seen you so self-satisfied.” 

“I’m not preening,” Stephen lied. Though, technically, peacocks often preened specifically to help them find a mate. Not that Stephen was doing that.

At all.

Really. No.

His and Tony’s monthly meetings to explore magic were, ironically, entirely in the name of science. No flirtation of any kind. Not at all.

Okay, so maybe a little. But Tony was the flirtatious sort. Stephen just excelled at reciprocation.

“You are,” Wong contradicted. “I don’t understand why. Of course Stark would ask you for help running his magical tests.”

Given Wong still wouldn’t let Tony examine the relics and artifacts, maybe that was fair. But that didn’t change Tony’s admission, quiet and sincere, that Stephen was the person Tony trusted most. “Well, obviously, Tony knows to go to the best,” Stephen said, sniffing in feigned superiority.

Wong’s expression clearly said ‘who are you kidding?’

Stephen ignored it.

“Just remember you have actual duties,” Wong said. “I don’t want to come back in four days to find that you and Stark have forgotten the rest of the world exists… again.”

“It was only once!”

“Once too many!”