#it's an ~8k oneshot

[16-pennies]

just finished a draft of the smuttiest thing I have ever written by far. give me a few days to edit and then 👀

[ao3usermelancholyhues]

rb for larger sample size! feel free to elaborate in tags about your process.

[moonstruckme]

And since you're such an angel, I would love some:

snow angels with doctor!remus

Thank you and please hydrate 💧

Awee you're too sweet to me, thanks for requesting lovely <3

cw: blood (not a lot? if that helps), dizziness/lightheadedness

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 686 words

Remus cups your face in his hand, brows woven together in concern. “Did you eat lunch?” he asks you. 

“Yeah.” 

“What’d you have?” He swipes his thumb gently over your cheek before leaving you, going into the nearby bathroom. 

“A sandwich.” You sound a bit defensive, which isn’t strictly fair. You know you gave Remus a bit of a fright when he came home to find you lying on the rug between the living room and the kitchen, too scared to get up. It was perhaps a tad dramatic—you could’ve walked over to the couch if you’d really wanted to, you’re sure—but you didn’t see any point in pushing yourself when you felt so dizzy and shaky on your feet. Remus has taken it as more cause for alarm than you have. 

He comes back with a blood pressure monitor and a couple of other things, setting them on the kitchen table in front of you. “That sounds fine,” he murmurs, taking your arm to slide the cuff up it. You have the sensation of swaying in your seat, but you’re not sure if it’s really happening or only in your head. “And it’s been going on for how long?” 

“Since maybe two.” You lean sideways so your head rests on his chest. Remus’ free hand comes up to hold it there gently, pinkie stroking the baby hairs by your temple as the cuff inflates around your arm. 

“You should have called me, sweetheart.” 

“I was okay,” you tell him. “I didn’t really think I was gonna pass out or anything, I just thought it’d be safer to sit down.” 

Remus’ hum conveys some disapproval, but he doesn’t seem to think it’s worthwhile to continue arguing with you. The blood pressure monitor beeps, and he leans forward to read it. 

“Hm, that’s normal.” He takes the cuff off you with a satisfying ripping sound. You curl and flex your fingers against the odd feeling. 

Remus holds your head to his chest with his free hand while he leans forward, grabbing something else off the counter. He takes your hand, but you pull it from his grasp when you see what he’s holding, sitting up. 

“Remus,” you whine. 

He chuckles at your tone. “Dove, it’ll be quick.” 

You let him take your hand again, but don’t allow him to pull it near that clicker thing. “Is it going to hurt?” you worry. 

“No.” 

You make a low, petulant sound in the back of your throat. Ordinarily you might be embarrassed for it, but you’re feeling rather self-pitying right now and entitled to some sulking. “Really?” 

“Yes, love. Relax.” 

Still feeling mistrustful, you allow him to pull your hand closer. He pricks the pad of your finger. 

“Ow—Rem!” 

“It’s okay,” Remus shushes you. “All done.” 

“That hurt,” you complain, vindicated, as he collects the bead of blood on a reader. 

“I know,” he admits. “It does, a little. But only for a second, yeah?” 

You make your displeasure known through your silence. 

“Look.” Remus takes your finger, kissing the back. “It’s better now, see?” He brings your head to his chest again, and it’s difficult to keep from softening when he kisses that, too. “Sorry, dovey.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, begrudging, only because he really does seem to feel a bit bad. 

“Mm.” He reads your blood sugar. “You’re at ninety two.” 

“Is that good?” 

“It’s normal.” Remus holds your cheek again, looking down at you and stroking pensively with his thumb. You’re not sure if he’s feeling for something or just touching you; you’re happy either way. 

He hums softly. “Do you feel tired as well?” 

“A little, yeah.” 

“Headache?” 

You tilt your head back to see him. “What’s it mean?” 

“I’ll take that for a yes, then.” His lips curve softly. “I’m not completely sure what it means yet, but I’ve got a couple of theories.” 

“Can you fix it?” you ask, though really you have complete faith. Remus always fixes it. 

He kisses your head again like he knows what you’re thinking. His lips make a soft landing just short of your hairline. “We’ll see.” 

[shmothman]

hands (put your empty hands in mine)

vash x reader drabble (rated g, 550 words)

Scarred from wrist to fingertip—just like the rest of him—Vash’s hands are never anything but gentle and careful when they wrap around yours. All of him is careful with you, often borderline treating you as if you’re fragile, but can you blame him when human life so often is? It’s only out of love for you; out of fear that you’ll be ripped away from him. Still, he can’t bear to hold on too tight. The guilt (of putting you in danger just by keeping you close) is something he’ll never fully be able to escape, but it’s something you can help lessen, with patience and love and the constant reminder that he is deserving.

At first, even just holding your hand is nearly enough to make him cry. He’s denied himself a great many things over the past hundred and thirty years—affection chief among them—and accepting it now is difficult, even when it’s something he wants more than anything else. Give him some time to get used to it; he’ll be seeking it out constantly before long. Your hand in his becomes an anchor, a comfort, a reminder that you’re here and you’re real and he isn’t alone anymore. You’re nothing short of a miracle, to him.

Though, of course, he gets nervous, especially in the beginning—his hand sweaty and trembling as he gives you a wobbly grin; he might even give you his prosthetic hand to hold (although any other time he favors the other) to keep you from seeing just how nervous he is. Not that you can’t tell. You know him too well for that. He’ll be even more awestruck when you take his right hand anyway, interlacing your fingers with his and giving him a squeeze of reassurance. You don’t mind if his palm is a little bit sweaty. Yours is too.

Not to say that you shy away from his left hand: though the metal gets far too hot to hold beneath the desert suns, it cools in the evening like everything else, and you can sit with him, tracing the nicks and scuffs of it. He doesn’t have much feeling in it, but watching you draw mindless patterns against it makes his heart sing. Still, the fact that it’s a weapon makes him hesitant to touch you with it; he wishes he could keep that part of himself away from you entirely. You coax him out of that melancholy every time, though—especially when you take it and press it to your cheek, swearing the coolness of it feels like heaven.

One surefire way to get him to melt is to brush your lips over his knuckles, or even better, press a kiss to his open palm when he goes to cup your cheek. He’s always red-faced around you, but when you give him such open adoration, your lips against the calluses he’s acquired in all his years as a gunslinger, he lights up like a roman candle, pink to the tips of his ears. (And if you compliment his hands? If you tell him how safe and loved they make you feel? How you love that he chooses to use them for good? For love and peace? Vash has long since decided that he’s yours forever, but this only cements that fact tenfold.)

[sunshinesteviee]

hi emma! what about a friends to lovers with peter where reader falls asleep on pete’s lap when they’re watching a movie or something and peter just can’t bring himself to wake her up 🥺 and she basically ends up staying the night and it’s all fluffy and cute eeee

heeheh thank u bb ily. fem!reader; wc: 682

-

Peter wasn’t exactly sure how it’d happened. One minute, you’d been watching a movie together, and the next, you were fast asleep with your head in his lap. It didn’t surprise him that you were asleep; you’d been exhausted from classes and work, but had insisted on your planned movie night when Peter had suggested taking a rain check. He just wasn’t sure how you’d ended up laying in his lap, because you’d originally been leaning against his shoulder. It wasn’t like you never touched (or cuddled, for that matter), but the realization was so unexpected that it sent Peter’s heart racing. 

He finally noticed, and placed his hand on your shoulder gently, speaking your name in a whisper, thinking maybe you’d been half-awake. When he received no response, though, he wasn’t sure what to do. Would you want him to let you be, or wake you up? Honestly, he wasn’t sure he had the heart to wake you up with how peaceful you looked fast asleep. Peter knew how hard you’d been working lately, knew how desperately you needed a good sleep, and decided there was no harm in letting you sleep for a bit. 

Reaching for the remote, Peter turned down the volume of the TV a bit and then grabbed a blanket behind him to lay over you. He ran warm, so he almost never used it, but knew you tended to be the opposite, and didn’t want you to wake up because you were cold. Once it was tucked around you, Peter’s hand returned to your arm, his thumb tracing short lines over the curve of your shoulder as he gazed down at you.

The movie one was one you’d chosen, so he wasn’t exactly interested, even though he’d agreed to watch it. And it became even harder to focus on it with you asleep in his lap. He didn’t want to be weird, but it was hard not to stare with how pretty you looked; your eyelashes kissing your cheeks, your hair falling into your face, lips parted slightly. After a moment, Peter tentatively placed his hand on your head, fingers slipping into your hair as his thumb brushed back and forth over your temple gently. 

It wasn’t until the movie was nearly over that Peter realized how long he’d spent watching you instead of the movie. How long he’d played with your hair or traced small shapes into your skin. Quite honestly, he could do it forever, but you’d woken up just minutes before the movie ended, eyes blinking heavily as the credits began flashing across the screen. 

Letting out a soft groan, you shifted so you could see Peter, “Aw man. I slept through the whole thing?”

Realizing you were awake, Peter’s hand flew up from your hair to scratch at the back of his neck, trying to be as nonchalant as he possibly could. “Oh, um, yeah. I guess so.”

You weren’t oblivious to the soft pink on his cheeks, the way his eyes went wide, “Sorry for falling asleep on you. Literally and figuratively.”

Peter let out a nervous breath — something like a laugh — and shook his head, “That’s okay. I didn’t mind. Really.”

“Okay,” you replied with the same nervous giggle that quickly turned into a yawn. “I should, um... should probably get going back to my place.” 

“Stay!” Peter blurted before he could think it through, “I mean, if you want. You can stay. It’s late. Don’t want you out there by yourself. You can stay here.” 

Heat rose to your cheeks as you scrambled to sit up, pulling the blanket Peter had tucked around you with you, “Are you sure? Don’t want to intrude.”

“Positive,” Peter smiled, seeming much more confident. “We can even watch the movie again, if you want. I’m gonna be honest… I wasn’t paying much attention to it either.” 

You weren’t sure exactly what you meant, but the look Peter was giving you caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach, so you nodded and scooted in closer, leaning back into Peter, “That sounds nice.” 

[chonkymoth]

me: decides to write a hannigram oneshot off of a silly little joke my friend made, thinking it'll be maybe 2.5k ish words at most by the end

me: emerging from the google doc at nearly 2am, 2k words already written in only a couple of hours, arguably at not even 1/3 of the way done

[eddiesfagbriefs]

unfortunately this fic is not going to write itself. which is so sad because i’m realizing i’m only like halfway through it.

[kirabasai]

trying to girldad a character for a quick oneshot and i accidentally made him scary dangerous fae who is like a flame and the child is like a moth. how did i get here. he was supposed to be the fun mischievous fae type. how did this happen. is this a result of me not knowing what actual good parenting is.

[mellancholy-morose]

Six-Sentence Sunday

Thanks @bcbdrums for the tag, somehow I think you just wanted an excuse to get a sneak peak at this oneshot :P

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"Well it seems like you're very close now," the owner responds. "Your friend here knows you better than my wife and I know each other."

I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing as I realize what he's implying. Looking to Spirit, I see he hasn't got a clue and continues to add fuel to the fire. "Well yeah, I suppose surviving and fighting against the end of the world as we know it together will do that," he says.

I can't keep the smile off my face; Spirit’s going to be mortified when he realizes the misunderstanding, and man was it going to be entertaining.

--------------

Keep and eye out I should be posting this soon, we're just editing now boiss (also there's an art piece coming of it too, but idk when I'll finish that /shrug)

[basiltonpitch]

opening the second chances fic doc after barely writing anything this week and remembering why i was so stuck :) sigh :) i absolutely love trying to connect little bits and pieces of unfinished scenes that are written out of order :))) why am i like this :))))))

[onyxedskies]

"hey onyx how are you doing" i have a oneshot that is currently 50 pages long and still incomplete how do you think i'm doing

[soft-girl-musings]

fighting the urge to go down an author's entire list of posted works on ao3 bc 1) the Bad Memories from doing that in middle school (lame) and 2) i need to pace myself bc we have at least 7 months until more canon content is avaliable

[moonstruckme]

MAE!!! I'M HERE TO OFFICIALLY SPAM YOUR INBOX WITH REQUESTS (and no you don't have to answer all of them)

CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR 8K!!!

And first I would like to order a hot cocoa with James Potter and First Snow

Once again, massive congrats, Mae!!! Here’s to even more milestones (and my spam, of course)!

Thank you lovely <33

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 451 words

You’ve been up for hours by the time James rouses. 

You’d woken in the middle of night to peer outside, pulling open the curtains when you saw the snow blanketing your neighborhood. You had every intention of enjoying the peaceful view for a few minutes before you fell back asleep, except the peaceful view proved too exciting for you to drift off again. You’ve been half dozing while you’ve watched, mesmerized, as the pile outside your window has grown and the sun has come up. 

James reaches over and pulls you back into his chest with a warm, sleepy sound. You rub his forearm affectionately. 

His nose nudges behind your ear, cold. “Y’awake?” he mumbles. 

“Mhm.” 

He tugs at your hip, and you roll over, trading one view for another. James’ eyes are squinty and unfocussed the way they always are before he puts his glasses on in the mornings, his dark curls poofy on one side and crushed against his pillow on the other. He draws a line up your side with his palm. 

“It’s early for you, lovie.” 

You smile. You’re so happy your cheeks almost hurt. “It’s snowing.” 

“Oh, yeah?” James props himself up on an elbow to look over you out the window, then turns around to reach for his glasses when he can’t see anything. For reasons unbeknownst to you, watching your boyfriend adjust the bridge with his middle finger will never become less endearing. He blinks, taking in the scene outside. “Woah.” 

“Right?” You’re giddy. “It’s been going for hours.” 

“Looks like it,” James says, but his eyes are on you. He smiles adoringly. You kiss the uptilt corner of his lips on a whim, and it tilts further. “This is weird for me,” he admits. “Usually it’s me who wakes up first and has to try to get you out of bed.” 

“Who says I’m trying to get you out of bed?” 

He cups your cheek, squeezing. “You want to go out in the snow,” he says knowingly. 

You bite down on your lip in hopes of suppressing it, but your smile is unmistakably sheepish. James laughs, kissing you. 

“Give me just a second, angel.” He sits up, raising his arms above him in a stretch. 

“We can cuddle for a while first,” you offer. 

James looks at you. “You won’t be too eager to go?” 

You shake your head mutely. 

“Really? Because I was thinking that if I make cocoa now and let it simmer on the stove, it’ll be hot when we come back in.” 

You throw off the covers, going to find your clothes. “Good point. There’ll be plenty of time for cuddling later.” 

James laughs as he follows you up.

[azems-familiar]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Azem/Emet-Selch (Final Fantasy XIV), Azem & Emet-Selch (Final Fantasy XIV), Azem/Emet-Selch/Hythlodaeus (Final Fantasy XIV)/Original Character(s), Azem (Final Fantasy XIV) & Original Character(s), Azem & Venat (Final Fantasy XIV) Characters: Azem (Final Fantasy XIV), Emet-Selch (Final Fantasy XIV), Hythlodaeus (Final Fantasy XIV), Original Final Fantasy XIV Characters, Venat (Final Fantasy XIV), Elidibus (Final Fantasy XIV) Additional Tags: the original character is the WoL's ancient, you know. for clarification, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ascian Azem (Final Fantasy XIV), Canonical Character Death, the MCD is for the OC and then Hyth, Named Azem (Final Fantasy XIV), Nonbinary Azem (Final Fantasy XIV), Warrior of Light Is Not A Shard of Azem (Final Fantasy XIV), Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Queerplatonic Relationships, Dissociation, Tempering (Final Fantasy XIV), this is a prequel it is setting up THE WHOLE SERIES. keep that in mind, Depression, honestly just a Lot of mental health issues lol Series: Part 1 of in the shadow of the sun || ascian azem au Summary:

It isn’t the Sundering that breaks them.

It isn’t Zodiark’s summoning, the Convocation voting for sacrifice upon sacrifice, using their people as fuel for a god to save them. It isn’t even their failure, time and again, to protect their people and do their duty and stop the Final Days. No, in the end, what breaks them is something- so much smaller, in the grand scheme of things, it almost feels like an insult. Just one more casualty to the calamity their lives have all become.

It isn’t supposed to happen.

Azem's descent into grief begins during the Final Days with the loss of two of the three people they love most on the star. Thirteen thousand years of empty despair follow.

[ell-vellan]

Literally every time I post a new chapter or fic I'm absolutely convinced I have made some egregious error or huge embarrassing typo and have to read it over obsessively until I can't even make sense of it anymore.

Anyway anxiety is fun! and if you ever see an embarrassing typo feel free to let me know 😅

[ardentpoop]

anyway this is where we’re at