dahoamit

[fullmoonficlet]

MASTERLIST 603 - EYES 

Check out the fanworks created for the latest prompt: EYES. Don't forget to express your appreciation by leaving a comment!

If you haven't already added your work to our collection on AO3, please feel free to add it to the collection for this prompt. If you have any questions about submitting, please leave us an ask to let us know.

Submissions are listed in order by word count. Please check the content notes and pairing for more information about each submission.

With New Eyes by @darkjediqueen (FIC, Deucalion/Stiles, R, 1637) Graphic Depictions Of Violence

In the Eyes of the Beholder by @simplyn2deep (FIC, Derek/Stiles, PG, 1880)

Watching for Trouble by @goddess47 (FIC, Peter/Stiles, PG, 3100) Discussion of canon-typical violence, part of an ongoing story, will not stand alone

[leilanihours]

🗝️ If you try to tickle me one more time, I swear you will not get another kiss for a week + Morgan Cheli

# LAUGHING 'TILL OUR RIBS GET TOUGH

pairing: morgan cheli x reader

word count: 603

warnings: none !

prompt: "if you try to tickle me one more time, i swear you will not get another kiss for a week"

⭑ from lani: god i love morgan we need more pics of her at uconn

celly masterlist !

main masterlist !

"WHATCHA DOIN', MORGIE?" you ask as you walk into the kitchen of your shared dorm.

"just catching up on some film before the season starts up," she answers, her eyes still locked on her computer screen, "how was class, baby?"

"it was okay, didn't really do much today," you answer, setting your bag down on the empty chair next to morgan's.

you come up behind her and place a kiss on her cheek, watching her take notes on some random player intently. your hands rest on her waist as you simply stand behind your girlfriend, waiting for her to acknowledge you.

"you good, y/n?" she asks, not getting the hint.

"i'm alright," you start, "i'd be better if my girlfriend showed me some love, though," you tease.

"m'sorry, baby," she says before turning her head to place a short kiss on your lips. you expected a little something more, so you're left hanging when she spins back around to resume the game footage on her computer.

"morgie," you say, tugging lightly on her loose shirt.

"hold on, y/n, just give me five more minutes, okay?"

you stay silent, contemplating leaving her to her work. your hands slide up her arms and onto her shoulders, feeling how tense they are, telling you that she's probably been at this for at least an hour or so.

"morgan, take a break."

"i'm almost done, babe."

"okay fine, you leave me no choice," you state, moving your hands back to her waist before tickling her sides with your fingers.

"y/n!" she yelps, immediately dropping the pen hat was in her hand and practically doubling over as your fingers work over her shirt.

"i'm not stopping until you close that computer," you shrug, still tickling the girl as she begins to let out the cutest giggles.

"please, y/n, oh my god i can't breathe, please stop!" she laughs as she tries to grab onto your arms and restrict your movements.

"are you gonna listen to me and take a break?" you ask.

"yes, fine, i will take a break!" she surrenders, still with a smile on her face from her laughing fit.

once you retract you hands from her torso, you step back expecting her to follow you to your bedroom. when you turn back around, you see her still writing in her notebook.

groaning, you make your way back over to her, ready to tickle her again but you're stopped before you can even start.

"if you try to tickle me one more time, i swear you will not get another kiss for a week," she threatens, pointing her pen in your face.

"as if you can last a week without my kisses," you challenge.

"oh i definitely can, you wanna see?" she says, eyebrows furrowed in pretend frustration.

"you're so cute when you're angry," you giggle.

"what am i gonna do with you, y/n?" she sighs with a shake of her head as she turns back to her computer.

"i'll show you exactly what you're gonna do," you smirk before grabbing your girlfriend and lifting her off of her chair, carrying her to your bedroom.

"y/n! what the hell are you doing?" she exclaims.

"taking you to bed so you can finally cuddle with me!"

"but i have to-"

"are you really telling me you'd rather watch a boring game and some player you don't care about than lay in bed with me?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at the girl now sitting at the edge of your bed.

"no..." she mumbles, not meeting your gaze.

"that's what i thought."

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[ivystoryweaver]

Day 29: Can't Breathe Without You (Anselm Vogelweide)

Angstember Prompt Post || Word Count: 603

Note: Despite this prompt falling near the end of the month, this is the first Angstember piece I wrote! Anselm is a silly little murder darling - it is hard to imagine angst for him. But I spun the wheel of characters and prompts and these two matched (Anselm + can’t breathe). I immediately thought of this gif and Anselm’s dramatic ass if he felt he might lose you. Nothing too heavy, not really even angst. Mentions of violence, a little sensuality.

“My mind is made up, Anselm.”

You stood amongst a sea of empty suitcases and clothes yanked off their hangers, in your shared bedroom.

He ambled forward in his uniquely awkward way, a stride so endearing to you, like so many of his quirks.

“My love, you must understand, I was conducting business - "

“I heard what you said,” you snapped, sucking the air out of the room with your defiant tone. Many had died for far less than a rude interruption.

Folding your arms over your chest, you pressed your lips together tightly, chomping on the inside of your mouth to prevent tears from forming. “You said you don’t trust me.” You threw his words back at him, simply to drive home your point.

Anselm was in weak form today, likely to appear dramatic for your sake. Or your undoing. His limp was more pronounced, his brace squeaking. Although dressed to the nines, as per usual, his oxygen tank was nearby.

“I said - " a long series of hacking coughs interrupted his protest. His personal assistant rushed to help him with his oxygen mask, but he shoved them away, shooing them out of the room. Grabbing the thing himself, he dragged in a dramatic inhale.

“See what you do to me, cherub? I cannot breathe without you.”

You rolled your eyes at his on-the-nose comment, but your feet ushered you forward without thinking. Anselm held onto the mask with trembling fingers, poised to take a second, dramatic drag should you wound him again.

Eyeing him sympathetically, you reached for the scruff of his beard. “I know this is hard for you. But I can’t stay here. Not if you don’t trust me.” And you were wounded by the way he seemed to exclude you from his affairs.

His gaze fixed on you, deadly serious. “I have many flaws, my love. Misspeaking is not one of them. You are mistaken.”

“I am not mistaken,” you defiantly hissed, stepping toe to toe with him, your lips a breath apart. “You said I’m not to be trusted with your business. You think I don’t understand what it is that you do?”

His jaw clenched at your obstinate mindset and bold choice of words. “Do you think I allow anyone besides my beloved to speak to me in such a tone? Especially so erroneously?” His oxygen mask clattered to the plush carpet as he cinched his arm behind you and crushed his mouth to yours.

Your knees buckled as his soft lips pulled at yours, before he licked his way inside. He kissed you hard and deep, hands winding you close to him, holding onto you possessively.

“You are my oxygen,” he murmured, peppering your lips, cheek, chin and nose with kisses as his hands roamed the curves of your hips and backside. “What you heard was me telling a business associate that you are not to be troubled with business,” he clarified. “Does your eavesdropping imply your interest in my affairs?” His voice dropped an octave as he breathed on your ear. “Or does it warrant suitable punishment?”

You swallowed thickly, easing back so you could see him better. You thought to question him - to be sure you misheard, but his warning glare let you know it would be unwise. Pressing a fierce kiss to his lips, you announced that you would accept your punishment.

“Very well then,” he half smiled. “Undress yourself and get on the bed. We’ll be ruining several of these garments you flung around the room during your tantrum, cherub.”

You’d never been so happy to be wrong.

Angstember Masterlist || Misc. Masterlist || Main Masterlist

[propertyofwhitney67]

How about... sick GN!reader looked after by Whitney? Fluff, as warm and fuzzy as it gets with that dickhead... cute right?.

My Brave Slut

M!Whitney x Gn!Reader

Prompt Event: Sick

Words: 603

Tw: sick, one mention of throwing up but it doesn’t actually happen

Note: I loved writing this, soft Whitney has my whole ass heart

“You look like shit.” Whitney pointed out the obvious the second I got close enough to him and his gang. Before I could retort I violently sneezed into the crook of my arm, only confirming his statement. “What the hell are you doing here if you’re sick?” He didn’t care to wait for my response, instead grabbing me by the arm and forcing me to follow him, leaving behind his gang of friends.

Whitney refused to answer any of my questions as he dragged me to his house and up to his room, “I’m fine.” I lied, feeling like shit and in desperate need of medicine. “I can’t miss school, my grades are shit as it is.”

He sat me down on his bed, not caring about my qualms, and went into the bathroom. I sighed knowing there was no getting out of this. I accepted my fate, tossing my bag to the side and kicking off my shoes to get more comfortable.

I curled up in the bed, getting comfortable while Whitney rummaged around in the bathroom. “What are you looking for?” I asked in a nasally voice, wondering what the hell was taking him so long. I only heard a grumble in response as he continued rummaging around.

After a few minutes he emerged from the bathroom carrying tissues, medicine and a thermometer. “Let’s check and see how fucked you are.” He said, putting the medicine and tissues on the bedside table. I weakly propped myself up on the pillows, my whole body hurting. Whatever this sickness is, it's really kicking my ass. “Open up, slut.” He instructed, holding the thermometer up to my mouth. I opened my mouth, letting him put the thermometer under my tongue. Whitney stood beside the bed with his hands on his hips, waiting for the thermometer to do its job.

Around thirty seconds later the thermometer loudly beeped. I opened my mouth and let him take it, “A hundred and two! How long have you been like this?” I shrugged my shoulders, not exactly sure. “Whatever…” He grumbled and readied the medicine, “Here.” He placed a few pills in my hand and handed me a cup of water, “They’ll kick in soon.”

“Thank you…” I mumbled while downing the pills and praying I wouldn’t throw them back up like I had everything else these past few days. He waved away my thanks and started to walk back to the bathroom, “Wait…” I whined, reaching an arm out to him. “Stay with me…” 

Whitney rolled his eyes but obliged my request, kicking off his shoes and joining me in bed. “Only so you shut up.” He grumbled as he got situated, eventually ushering me to lay on him.

I hummed happily and laid in his arms, “Thank you.” I rarely got to indulge in his softer side so I took full advantage.

He smirked down at me, running his hands through my hair lovingly. “Can’t have my slut feeling neglected.” I made the mistake of rolling my eyes, only further hurting my head. “Get some rest.” He cooed and kissed the top of my head, showing off his rarely seen soft side. I smiled, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. 

As I faded in and out of consciousness I heard Whitney whisper to himself, “I don’t know how you deal with this shitty town while being sick…you’re a brave slut.”

“Mhh I’m your brave slut…” I mumbled as I finally fell asleep in his arms, getting some much needed rest.

He sighed before making sure I was actually asleep this time, “My brave slut indeed.”

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘒𝘰-𝘍𝘪

[juyeonszn]

I CAN’T LOSE WHEN I’M WITH YOU

PAIRING kevin moon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 603

GENRES itty bitty angst? ﹒fluff ig? ﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, kevin is having an existential crisis, established relationship, kinda? cnc?, somnophilia, cockwarming, tbh that’s all 😭 this is a shortie but she’s kinda cute too ig

SUMMARY even when the world felt like it was no longer spinning on its axis, he had you to revolve around, like his own personal sun.

MORE this one is a double whammy besties 🤓 along with being kevin’s fic for fawntober, she is also a long awaited request from my 100 follower event for @confuchan !! im sorry this took so long 😭 i hope it meets ur expectations!! if u enjoyed, pls don’t forget to reblog! prompts used are: 8, 19

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

Laying here, staring up at the ceiling like it was more interesting than any news story on TV, Kevin felt like he was at a standstill.

It was like the world came to a spinning halt, and the only thing he could focus on was the low hum of the fan in the corner of the room along with his own breathing. But then you stirred beside him and pulled away his concentration as if it were second nature to you.

Now all he could do was listen to your evened breaths, watching your shoulder rise and fall as you slept. You looked so peaceful, soft snores filling his ears as he leaned in to wrap his arms around you. You felt so warm in his embrace, your skin against his tucking away all the worries that had been stuffed inside of his head. Everything just came so easily with you.

It was amazing how you didn’t even have to do anything, just your presence was sufficient to calm the storms raging in his brain. Your brows were slightly furrowed, like you were invested in the dream you were having. He can’t help the small smile that works its way onto his lips.

You mumble something in your sleep, alarming Kevin for a moment before he caresses your cheek, leaving a kiss on your temple. “I just want to hold you close.”

Maybe holding you close was a bad idea though, what with the way you kept moving. Each squirm brushed up against him, turning him even more restless than he was before. He pushes your hips into the mattress to still you, holding in the choked groan threatening to free itself from the back of his throat.

Despite all the uncertainties that plagued Kevin’s mind moments ago, one thing was for sure. You were wearing way too many clothes for what he had in mind. The thought of your wet heat alone was enough to bring a sense of peace within him. Perhaps that was all he needed to finally fall into a blissful slumber; just the feeling of your warm walls sucking him in.

His fingers sneak down to the bottom hem of your panties, grateful that you were pantsless and your legs were somewhat spread already. He pushes aside your underwear, slipping himself out of his own. Kevin sighs, placing his forehead on your shoulder to quell the inkling of shame burrowing through his chest as his cock slides into your cunt without hesitation.

Fuck, it was like your pussy was made for him. It was as if you were created solely for the purpose of Kevin’s dick burying itself deep inside of you. His eyes flutter shut, finger creeping under your t-shirt to rest his hand on your stomach. He twitches in you when you whimper in your sleep, scooting yourself against him. His broad chest was sandwiched to your back, the two of you as close as physically possible.

This was perfect. He didn’t even have to move, didn’t even have the desire to finish either. All he wanted was to stay like this, his cock snug between the walls of your cunt. In fact, it’s enough to lull himself to sleep, effectively resetting any and every existential crises running through his head.

That was the thing about you. You were always the one constant in Kevin’s life. You could turn a bad day into a good one in a matter of minutes. Even when the world felt like it was no longer spinning on its axis, he had you to revolve around, like his own personal sun.

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[cryptid-ghoulette]

Mushy May - First Aid

Poor Phantom just wanted to make some muffins with Aurora. Mushy May prompts by @forlorn-crows WC - 603 Minor injuries, but mostly fluff!

Phantom's day started off so well. The kitchen was full of sounds and smells as Aurora flitted around, dancing to something playing from her phone, cheerfully mixing the dry ingredients with the wet, while Phantom set the oven and greased the pan.

He reached down to pull out the oven tray, distracted by Aurora yell-singing the chorus to whatever pop song she was currently obsessed with. Not realizing he forgot to put oven mitts on, he ever so slightly touched the metal and pulled his hand back with a yelp, stumbling backward and taking half the bench's contents with him as he tried to stop himself from falling, with bowls and pans clanging to the ground, one large pan bonking him squarely on the head.

He let out a small whimper, his vision blurring at the edges, seeing a shape rush over to him before it all went black.

When he awoke, he was lying on the couch in the lounge room, dizzy and confused, with a dull ache echoing in his head. Aurora noticed his eyes opening and rushed over to him.

“Hey, hey… you back with us?”

Phantom let out a disoriented grunt, slowly pushing himself upright.

“What happened?” He murmured. “Head... hurts.”

“That will happen when a big pan lands on your head,” Aurora said with a slight chuckle, pointing to the large pan still resting on the floor of the kitchen, with an ever so slight dent in one side.

Mountain appeared in the doorway, surveying the scene as he swiftly crossed the room to the couch, crouching down beside a still slightly confused, but already improving Phantom.

“Oh bug, you’re a worry,” he said, shaking his head and pulling out some supplies from a bag that was sitting beside him. “I can see a nasty bruise on your head there, and let me see that hand,” gently grabbing his wrist to get a closer look at the burn running across the palm of his hand.

“I’m going to need you to stay still for me, bug,” Mountain said softly but sternly, tipping a bottle of strong-smelling liquid onto a small cotton swab.

Phantom continued to squirm, letting out a high-pitched squeak as the swab swiped across his palm.

“Ow ow ow, Mounty, that hurts!” He whined, trying to wriggle out of the Earth ghoul's grasp.

“It’s no big deal… Don’t need all of this,” he mumbled, knowing Mount was only trying to help, but it didn't make it any less painful.

“You took quite a tumble, little one, gave us a scare! But we’re almost done, you’re being so brave, ant,” wrapping a bandage around his fingers and placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

He didn’t feel brave; he felt annoyed, sore, and maybe a little hungry. He never did get to eat those muffins Rora and he were in the middle of making.

“I’m going to keep an eye on you for a little while, but you seem to have gotten pretty lucky, it could have been much worse,” Mountain said with a smile. “I think Aurora has something that will help, right Nova?”

Aurora came bounding over.

“Here you go, ant! This will make you all better!” She said excitedly, holding out her hands to show Phantom a slightly burned muffin.

“It tastes better than it looks, I promise.”

His eyes widened, grabbing the muffin out of Aurora's hand and taking an eager bite, quickly devouring the rest.

“Mmm, ‘s good Rora, worth the ouch,” he mumbled, mouth still full of muffin. He swallowed, a big smile spreading across his face.

“Can I have another?”

[banshee1013]

Suptober / Flufftober Day 4 - The Flames and the Light

Waaaaay behind but still plugging away at this thing and this thing.

Prompts: Suptober: Nimbus Flufftober: Cinderella Moment

Today's installment is below and on AO3, and also added to the series October Days (and Nights).

Title: The Flames and the Light Rating: Teen Warnings: No Warnings Apply  Tags: Men of Letters Bunker, Winchester House Fire, Dean Winchester in Hell, Dean Winchester is Saved, Righteous Man Dean Winchester, Visions, Memories Summary: Hester had said, “When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost!” She claimed the touch of Dean’s soul had corrupted him.

She was partly correct: touching Dean’s soul, bright and warm in a place that was so sullen and cold, changed him; but it wasn’t corruption.

It was love. Words: 603 AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50938690

==============================

“Hey, Sunshine, there you are.” Dean’s voice projects over his shoulder, his back to Castiel as he crouches by the hearth of the fireplace in the Bunker’s library. Castiel can hear the soft swish of the brush as Dean sweeps the spent ashes of a previous fire into a dustpan.

The back of Dean’s head inclines toward the two plushy upholstered chairs opposite the fireplace, lit by a small hurricane lamp on the small table between them. The flickering flame within sparkles on the crystal decanter filled with what Castiel knows is Dean’s favorite whiskey, accompanied by two matching glasses. 

“Just need to clean this up before laying a new fire. Don’t want to burn the place down or anything.”

Castiel begins to take a seat as requested when Dean rises from his crouch and turns to beam a smile at him. He wipes the back of his hand across his cheek, leaving a trail of soot…

And Castiel is struck still as an image arises in his mind…

A dark street, lit only by flashing red and blue lights and a dim yellow glow. A small boy sitting on the hood of a large black car, his arms overfilled with a small, wimpering bundle wrapped in a blue blanket. The lights flicker across cheeks ashen with shock and residue from the flames that consumed his family home and set him on his path. 

Castiel blinks, reality returning with a metallic clatter as Dean empties the ashes into the bin by the hearth and turns, his arms filled with firewood. He sets the wood on the metal grate inside the firebox, reaches for the box of fireplace matches on the mantle and strikes one. The bright yellow-blue flash as the match catches turning to red-gold and sparking off the highlights in Dean’s hair as he applies it to the kindling. Yellow orange flames flick as the kindling catches and licks the dark wood bark, turning it gold and then red as the flames climb.

Dean rises and rubs his hands over the flames, cinders rising around him before being swept up into the flue like dying stars. 

Another image arises in Castiel’s mind, unbidden…

He and his brethren, their armor shining sullen red and burnt gold from the fires of Hell even through the smoke and haze — but their goal was something which shone brighter still. The Righteous Man, the nimbus of his glowing soul cutting through the smoke like a beacon. Castiel both curses the necessity of their rescue, but relishes being the first to reach him, the first to touch that shining soul with his Grace, the one to grip him and raise him from Perdition. 

Hester had said, “When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost!” She claimed the touch of Dean’s soul had corrupted him. 

She was partly correct: touching Dean’s soul, bright and warm in a place that was so sullen and cold, changed him; but it wasn’t corruption.

It was love. 

He’s pulled from the vision by Dean’s solid, firm grip on his shoulders, his warmth flowing onto Castiel’s skin like sun-warmed honey. 

“Hey, Cas.” Castiel blinks and finds himself staring into green eyes sparking gold from the firelight. “Everything okay?”

Castiel’s hand rises to touch Dean’s cheek, brushes against the solid, warm skin there.

He had to make sure — the light of Dean’s soul still so bright, so warm, Castiel couldn’t be sure he wasn’t still locked in his vision.

“Perfect.”

Dean huffs a soft chuckle as he pulls Castiel to his chest, wrapping him in light and love. 

“Yeah, you are.” 

[sailtomarina]

The door is locked

They fumbled at the fastenings of their clothes, eager to take advantage of the time gifted them. Shirts and pants were dropped unceremoniously to the ground. A loud tear rent the air.

“I liked that pair!” Hermione protested, even as she curled her fingers into Draco’s boxer briefs to tug at them. 

She’d introduced him to the Muggle style shortly after they had first started having sex, loving the way they hugged his tight arse and emphasized just how wonderfully fit he was. 

“I’ll buy you a dozen more,” he muttered.

He reached around and unsnapped her bra in one smooth twist of his fingers. The prat had done that the first time, too, and she’d been so shocked at the time that she’d bit down hard and made his lip bleed.

“That’s not the point, dear.” Hermione was going to go mad if he wasn’t inside of her soon. She’d been so wound up with everything lately and it had been far too long since their last shag.

“Save me your arguments on frivolous spending and waste. I can just vanish them so they never go near those barbaric landfills.”

She scoffed even as she warmed at the fact that he’d remembered her lecture on sustainability, a movement that didn’t seem to have any traction in a magical world where objects could literally disappear, be repaired, or transfigured into something new.

She crowed in delight as his cock sprung free, thumping against her stomach with a satisfying smack. They maneuvered their way to the bed.

Squeak!

Hermione tugged out the fuzzy snake on which she’d landed and raised an eyebrow.

“What? It’s Scorpius’.”

“I know it belongs to our child. I’m just wondering why it’s here and not with him.” Hermione spoke slowly, as if Draco, too, was a toddler.

“Must’ve missed it in all the chaos. Please, let’s just—” He descended, lips covering hers and attempting to turn her mind back to what they’d started.

She yanked her head away and smacked him over his glorious blonde head with Slither the Snake.

“He’s going to want it back and we’ll get interrupted. Again.” 

They’d had to lie to their own child and pretend they were only hugging. She’d never seen Draco snatch up his pants as quickly as he had when Scorpius demanded in on the hug and leapt up to join them. Her husband hadn’t stopped pouting for days afterward and it had taken her a surprise visit to the underside of his study’s desk to get him to relent.

“The door is locked and Wimsy is under strict orders to leave us alone for at least two hours,” Draco said. He nearly whined, grinding against her to remind her of his prominent need.

“Wimsy!”

A House Elf with plaited pigtails popped into place at the foot of their bed. She didn’t even blink at the sight in front of her, even when Draco yelped and yanked at the blankets to cover them.

“Mistress called?” Big blue eyes blinked innocently up at them as she twirled her lavender skirts around her. Hermione was pleased to see she wore the matching slippers she’d gotten her.

She extended the green snake. “Please take this to Scorpius, and remind him to share with Lyra.”

“Yes, Mistress. Wimsy has the children well in hand.”

Just as quickly as she’d appeared, she disapparated and they were alone once more.

Draco gasped as the covers were yanked off him and cold air kissed his bum. Hermione pinched one cheek before rolling them both over to pin him to the mattress below her.

“Now, where were we?”

WC 603

Twitter prompt from @DramionePrompts

Cross posted on Tumblr  and AO3

I have a definite weakness towards boxer briefs. They look absolutely divine and I encourage more to try them if they never have.

[xxsksxxx]

Liberating the Mirage

Summary:

When an assignment goes horribly wrong, Mulder has to race against time to find Scully.

But sometimes the line between reality and illusion blurs—and it turns out there’s more than one locked door that needs to be opened.

Notes:

This is my contribution to Fictober, a yearly event that celebrates writing and reading—and fall. All of which are good things in my world.

Since there’s no way I can come up with a new story every day, I’ve decided to write one fic that includes all prompts from the Fictober 2023 prompt list. They’re all in bold if you want to seek them out specifically. You can find the list here: Fictober 202

I’m dedicating this final chapter to @baronessblixen who’s encouraged me throughout this journey!

I would’ve never had the courage to try my hand at writing (and actually posting!) if it wasn’t for her. So, thank you, my friend.

I hope you’ll have as much fun reading this fic as I had writing it.

AO3 | Start at the Beginning | @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023

Epilogue

Holy Cross Memorial Hospital, Washington, D.C.

Mulder pressed his back against the wall of the long hallway and stealthily crept from door to door. If he didn’t have to worry about getting caught, he would’ve laughed. It seemed creeping along walls was all he did these days. The consequences of getting caught this time would be very different from last night though, even if they were not any less dire. Hospitals didn’t appreciate people sneaking into patients’ rooms after visiting hours, he’d learned over the years. Usually, he didn’t care about those things, but this time he didn’t want to take any chances.

When he finally reached the door marked with the number 603 he let out a breath and took a careful look around. He was alone in the hallway; the only sound was the humming of the overhead neon lights. He silently opened the heavy door to the hospital room and sneaked inside, quickly closing it behind him again. Someone had drawn the blinds, and only small slivers of sunlight fell onto the white covers of the bed standing close to the window.

Scully was lying in her hospital bed, her eyes closed. He quietly walked over to her bedside, his sneakers squeaking softly on the linoleum floor, and stared down at her. The machine monitoring her blood pressure hummed softly in the dimly lit room.

Her breath was slow and deep, and Mulder let out a relieved sigh. It would take some time until he stopped worrying after her latest adventure. His fingers brushed a strand of hair off of her forehead, and the slight contact of his hand with her face caused her to stir, her eyes fluttering open to look at him.

“Mulder? What are you doing here?” she asked, not the slightest hint of surprise in her voice at seeing him there.

“I needed to see you. Make sure you’re okay,” he said simply and took her hand in his, playing tag with her thumb. Scully watched their hands silently, pressing her thumb back against his, lost in thought.

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she said reverently. “There’s just a lot on my mind.”

Mulder nodded while keeping his gaze on their still joined hands, afraid she’d be able to read him like a book. “I talked to Skinner this morning. Our host was still in the basement where we had locked him up. It seems he couldn’t find a way out either.”

Scully looked up. “What about Connolly? Did they catch him as well?”

Mulder shook his head, not raising his eyes. “No. There’s no trace of him. He disappeared.”

Scully stayed silent, returning her eyes to their joined hands after a while.

“Did you talk to the doctor? When will you be able to go home?” Mulder finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Tomorrow. They did a full check-up and blood work today. I had an allergic reaction to the drug he injected me with. But apart from a few scratches and bruises, I’m okay now.”

Mulder finally raised his eyes to hers. “Who’s going to take care of you? Is your mother coming over or do you want me to pick you up?”

Scully looked up at him and then quickly avoided his eyes again. “Would you mind taking me home tomorrow? My mom’s just going to fuss and worry, and I’d rather not have her make a big deal out of a few bruises.” She kept fiddling with his thumb, circling hers around it again and again.

Mulder watched her for a moment. “What’s going on, Scully?” he asked softly.

“What do you mean,” she replied, still not looking at him.

Mulder squeezed her hand gently as he curled his fingers over her thumb, forcing it down into his palm. “You’re not looking at me, Scully. What’s this about,” he hesitated as a thought suddenly struck him. “Is this about our kiss?” he asked quietly.

Scully’s fingers twitched in his grasp. Bull’s eye, he thought grimly. His heart picked up speed, and he started to sweat. “Do you regret it, Scully?” he asked monotonously, his face a mask even though his heart was beating wildly.

Scully quickly looked up at him, searching his face. “Do you?” she asked, her face unreadable.

“No, I don’t,” he said firmly. “But if you do, I… I want you to know I understand. I know it wasn’t the best of circumstances, and you were probably still feeling the drugs,” he rambled nervously. “So, what I’m trying to say here is, that if you didn’t like it, and you’d rather forget it happened…” he waved his free hand around vaguely.

“I’m not saying I didn’t like it,” Scully said, amusement tinging her voice.

Mulder dropped their joined hands down to the bed covers and exhaled. “What are you saying then, Scully?” he asked, watching her intently.

“If I remember correctly, Mulder, it was me who kissed you. And I don’t want to forget. But in case you forgot, I can remind you,” she said with a smile.

She tugged on his hand in hers and pulled him closer, tenderly putting her free hand behind his neck.

Mulder was watching her with wide eyes, and she pulled him in for a kiss. This time he didn’t hesitate and deepened the kiss immediately, pressing his lips to hers.

Neither of them noticed the rays of the setting sun streaming through the hospital window, bathing the hospital room in soothing colors and engulfing their faces in a warm glow.

The End.

***

Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed my contribution to Fictober 2023.

And if you want to comment, please feel free. You'd make my day—just be kind. You can also find this fic on AO3.

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 Just Fucking Write 2k24 - Day 6 🔞

Prompt: “Letting you go was the hardest thing I ever had to do,”

WC: 603

Jisung looked down into his glass.

“Letting you go was the hardest thing I ever had to do,” he admitted.

“So why’d you do it?” Minho asked, his voice betraying nothing.

“Because I had to. I knew I couldn’t be the man you needed, the man you deserved,” Jising finally turned his head to look at his former lover.

“You left me, Jisung. Letting go implies there was equal emotional investment,” Minho replied. “Then you show up at my house fifteen years after you left me without so much as a goodbye three days after my husband died. I don’t even know where to fucking start.”

“You didn’t have to open the door,” Jisung pointed out.

“No, I didn’t,” Minho agreed.

“You didn’t have to invite me in and treat me like a guest,” the other man continued.

“No, I didn’t,” Minho said.

“And you don’t have to let me kiss you three days after your husband died,” Jisung took his chance. Minho put down his glass and stood up. Minho stepped in front of him and Jisung braced himself for whatever Minho was about to say.

“I’m not going to,” he said, taking Jising’s glass out of his hand and placing it on the table. “I’m going to kiss you because I want to.”

He gracefully climbed in Jisung’s lap and pressed their lips together. Minho weaved his fingers in Jisung’s hair as he kissed him. A part of Jisung hoped this would happen. That it would be like no time had passed. Right now they were twenty three again in Jisung’s shitty apartment, not on a multimillion dollar rooftop terrace.

“Min-,” Jisung breathed.

“Shhh,” Minho hissed against Jisung’s mouth. He adjusted his hips so his ass was firmly on Jisung’s crotch. His cock was getting uncomfortably hard against his zipper. Minho began steadily rocking his hips as he draped his body over Jisung’s frame.

Fuck

“If you keep that up then I’m going to come in my pants,” he grunted.

“So take them off,” Minho pulled back to look at him. His lips were slick and swollen from kissing, his dark eyes blown out with lust, and his erection prominent in his sweatpants.

“Only if you do too,” Jisung replied. Minho smirked and got off Jisung, staring at him as he took off his pants and underwear, leaving his shirt on. Only then did he take off his own pants and crawl back into Jisung’s lap.

“You keep lube in a plant pot?” Jisung stared as Minho opened the bottle and began opening himself up.

“Sometimes I’d come up here to jack off. Just for the rush of thinking someone might see me,” he grinned.

“Still an exhibitionist then?” Jisung smiled back.

“Some things never change,” Minho seated himself on Jisung’s cock in one go. He was just as hot, tight, and wet as Jisung remembered. “Like how your fat cock fills me up.”

“Fuck me,” Jisung pulled Minho back down into a kiss.

“Gladly,” the other man replied. He braced his hands on the back of the chair and bounced on Jisung’s cock like they’d only done it yesterday. Their tongues explored each other’s mouths, their hands slid over sweaty skin, and words that had gone unspoken for fifteen years slipped out in between gasps of pleasure.

“I’ll never leave you again. I swear,” Jisung panted.

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep,” Minho warned.

“This time I’m the man you need. Not then, but now,” Jisung said against Minho’s neck.

“This time,” Minho echoed as he came. Jising’s release followed a few moments later, filling Minho completely.

“This time,”

[fullmoonficlet]

SIGN-UP FOR PROMPT 603: EYES

This week's prompt is: EYES.

Welcome to Full Moon Ficlet, the weekly prompt community for Teen Wolf!

In order to sign-up, just reblog this post or fill out this form and get writing a fic or ficlet that is inspired by this week's prompt. There are just a few rules:

Be inspired by the prompt of the week!

Reblog the original prompt post to sign-up for the week in order to be included in the masterlist, or fill out the form above. Do this by Tuesday morning at 10 am Eastern time!

Your creation must be a part of the Teen Wolf fandom. Crossovers and fusions are welcome as long as TW is the primary focus.

Starting 07/03/2022, RPF will no longer be allowed as part of the challenge.

To be considered a ficlet, your story should be at least 200 words minimum and a maximum of 1499 words.

To be considered a fic, your story should be at least 1500 words minimum, and there is no maximum!

Art is art, and we love it! We will not be reblogging art, only a link, so please just make sure we know to mark the link NSFW if it is.

New chapters from a WIP or series are welcome, but please post your story or chapter in its entirety! Posting a chapter or story that is incomplete just makes readers sad. Choose the closest proper category (fic or ficlet) when you submit your completed work for the masterlist.

You can post your fic(let) or art ANYWHERE. If you post on AO3, please feel free to add it to the collection for this week's prompt (FMF_603).

Use the submission form to tell us about your fic by Saturday, August 24, 2024, by 10 am Eastern time in order to have it included on the masterlist.

There is no limit on the number of people who can sign up! Every prompt is a new week and a new event; you only sign up for one week at a time. There is no consequence for pledging to write and being unable to submit a fic that week. We understand that life interferes!

Now go have fun and create new fanworks for Teen Wolf! Art, fic, ficlets; everything is welcome. Enjoy, and get creative!

[leilanihours]

LANI'S 1K CELEBRATION MASTERLIST ! ✉️

— a location for all my work posted during this celly

women's college basketball !

# 5 — paige bueckers, the university of connecticut

# THIS IS A TRUTH THAT I CAN'T FIGHT, I LOVE YOU TOO MUCH (wc: 471)

prompt: "come back to bed."

# YOU BE LIKING IT ROUGH, YOUR BODY SOFT AS A FLOWER (wc: 704) *18+

prompt: "you like it when i'm rough?"

# YOU'RE SUCH A DREAM TO ME (wc: 847)

prompt: "i dreamed of you."

# SHE AIN'T NEVER DO THIS BEFORE BUT SHE GOOD AT IT (wc: 359) *18+

prompt: "don't run from it, princess, push back on me."

# SNEAK LINK BUT WE DON'T TELL IT, KISSING, TOUCHING, BREATHING HEAVY (wc: 660) *18+

prompt: "are you not wearing any underwear?"

# I CAN SEE YOU'RE LONELY DOWN THERE, DON'T YOU KNOW THAT I AM RIGHT HERE? (wc: 715)

prompt: "will you stay the night?"

# YOU DO IT SO LOUD, I BET THE NEIGHBORS KNOW MY NAME (wc: 339) *18+

prompt: "i know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that."

# 44 — aubrey griffin, the university of connecticut

# TO LEAVE THE WARMEST BED I'VE EVER KNOWN (wc: 405)

prompt: "come back to bed."

# YOU GOT ME OVERNIGHT, JUST LET ME BE CLOSE TO YOU (wc: 432)

prompt: "you look really good in my shirt."

# 23 — morgan cheli, the university of connecticut

# I DON'T WANNA LOOK AT ANYTHING ELSE NOW THAT I SAW YOU (wc: 613)

prompt: "so...are you just gonna keep staring or are you going to kiss me?"

# LAUGHING 'TILL OUR RIBS GET TOUGH (wc: 603)

prompt: "if you try to tickle me one more time, i swear you will not get another kiss for a week."

# 35 — azzi fudd, the university of connecticut

# TWO HEADLIGHTS SHINE THROUGH A SLEEPLESS NIGHT, AND I WILL GET YOU ALONE (wc: 541)

summary: azzi wants her well-deserved alone time with her girl.

women's national basketball association !

# 1 — nika muhl, the seattle storm

# SHE'S GOT MY ATTENTION, SHE'S CONFIDENT (wc: 812) *18+

prompt: "i like your hand in mine but i think it would look even better if it was wrapped around my throat."

# IT'S CAUSE I LOVE YOU, BABE, IN EVERY KIND OF WAY, JUST A LITTLE TASTE (wc: 470)

prompt: "i brought you dinner."

# THIS LOVE CAME BACK TO ME (wc: 675)

prompt: "i missed you."

# 20 — kate martin, the las vegas aces

# JACKET 'ROUND MY SHOULDERS IS YOURS (wc: 710)

prompt: "here, take my jacket."

# EVERY LOOK, EVERY TOUCH MAKES ME WANNA GIVE YOU MY HEART (wc: 722)

prompt: "i love it when you laugh."

# HOW DO I FEEL YOU ON ME WHEN YOU'RE NOT ON MY SKIN? (wc: 616) *18+

prompt: "fuck, i love the sounds you make."

# I WISH THAT YOU WOULD STAY IN MY MEMORIES (wc: 762)

prompt: "i had finally forgotten about you. i had finally started to live again. and now you decide to come back."

# OCEAN BLUE EYES LOOKING IN MINE (wc: 591)

prompt: "i can't say no to those eyes."

moodboards !

kate martin x surfer!reader

kate martin x singer!reader

[too-destiny-panda]

Wyllvember Day 1: The Blade/ Favourite outfit

A/N: I have not posted my writing on here for literal years, and I overall don't write much anymore (mainly because of fear of writing OOC and my many inconsistencies), but I figured I might try my hand at this. Forgive me for the ugly formatting, I'm writing this on mobile and overall have no clue how to make it look pretty😅. Anyways, let's get this Wyll Ravengard appreciation started! The prompts are from @commander-yinello and @sagscrib -Blue WC:603

The Blade of Frontiers, the protector of the Sword Coast, and its people. The name is known to many. Some whisper it in reverence, shout it in adoration, or mutter it through gritted teeth in loathing. The name carries a weight, a meaning, a notion that one is either going to be saved and protected or crushed under the heel of justice. It inspired an image in one’s mind, whether they have ever seen the Blade in person or not. A picture of justice and righteousness, of gaudiness and pompous heroics. Some imaginings are closer, some further, from the truth. Be that as it may, all of them are right, at least to some extent.

The Blade is a hero, who accompanies his actions with flowery words, creative insults, and some slightly more puzzling phrases. He is a man of many qualities, and though not all are fond of his tendency for theatrics, they must admit he is good. Whether it be his combat prowess or as a person, he is good. Which some may believe to be a weakness, a soft spot to be exploited and bruised. Those people are proven wrong very quickly.

Despite his kindness, his willingness to help those that need it, he is righteous. And there are few things more destructive than righteous fury, accompanied by powers few possess. His white, stone eye blazing as he cracks mountains, calls onto fiendish abilities to burn his enemies from inside out, blast their torsos to smithereens with a few Eldritch Blasts, or poison a small army of soulless wrongdoers with deadly clouds. For no matter how soft his heart is, how embellished and poetic his words are, his fists turn into adamantine when faced with his foes, his tongue turns into a blade sharp enough to put all blacksmiths to shame as incantation after incantation reverberates through the air until not a single enemy is left standing.

And when he returns from battle, when he swoops in to save the poor victims of the monsters he has slain, some remark how the outfit he dons is splattered with blood and soot and ash and unidentifiable organic matter. A view many would find disquieting, terrifying. But the people will only remember his kind gaze, his ebony hair and warm skin as he extends his hand to them, remember the way light reflects off the belts and buckles of his armour, how the hue of the leather contrasts with the unblemished metal.

And later on, when a feast is thrown, when the tavern is filled to bursting with folks celebrating the return of their loved ones and the defeat of the dangers that plagued them, many an eye will watch with keen interest the man responsible for such joy, watch as he laughs, how the fabric of his Splendid Blue outfit tightens around his arms whenever he raises them to toast. Others, in a different region will recall how the simplicity of his Swarthy Wayfarer shirt made them dream of his collarbones like depraved maidens. Some more noble sorts will remark that a particular shade of a Solemnity outfit made him look delectable. If everyone that has ever seen the Blade in a different outfit other than his armour were to meet and a debate on what suits him best would occur, this author is afraid that a brawl might break out on account of the Blade's handsome looks and what best accentuates them.

And as much as this humble writer disagrees with violence over romantic matters, one must admit that such behaviour is not so surprising when faced with someone such as the Blade of Frontiers.

[quellawrites]

it is your touch that keeps me warm

Square and prompt: E3, Touch Starved

Title: it is your touch that keeps me warm

Rating: Teen and up

Word Count: 603

Ship: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Warnings: No archive warnings apply

Additional tags: Touch Starved Dream of The Endless | Morpheus, Fluff, Tooth-rotting Fluff

Summary:

Dream wakes up to Hob's warmth.

Link to AO3

Written for @dreamlingbingo

The morning sunshine is filtering through the curtains, creating a play of light and shadows over the room. Dream’s clothing is neatly folded on the seat of a chair, a sharp contrast to Hob’s garments strewn all over the place. It should be a reminder of how different they are but all Dream sees is how much they complement each other, how well they fit together.

At last, his eyes land on Hob and Dream cannot fight the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Hob’s cheek is resting against the pillow, his mouth parting slightly with the next exhale of breath and he looks so peaceful and vulnerable that Dream will never stop being grateful to be allowed to watch over his sleep.

As Dream lets his gaze roam across Hob’s sleeping form, something tugs below his ribcage and claws at him, something hungry and desperate, some part of him that has been so cold and lonely for so long that now craves the intimacy of his lover’s touch at all times. 

Unable to help himself, Dream lifts his hand and lets his fingers slide through Hob’s hair in a slow, gentle caress, careful not to disturb his rest. 

Dream stills as Hob’s eyelids flutter open but he is guiltily pleased to see warmth chasing away the last vestiges of sleep in Hob’s eyes as Hob’s gaze focuses on Dream. 

“Morning, love,” Hob whispers and his voice is still delightfully rough from sleep. He closes the distance and places a feather-like kiss on Dream’s jaw. 

Dream knows Hob will soon have to leave the comfort of the bed and prepare himself for work. Dream himself should already be tending to his duties, left unattended as he allowed himself the luxury of spending the night with his lover. 

Taking in Hob’s body, partially covered by the thin sheets, Dream decides to grant himself another small allowance and indulge in the moment a little longer. He shifts over and aligns himself against Hob’s body, savouring the way Hob gasps at the proximity, savouring the warmth of Hob’s body, still a marvel even after their months together. 

Reaching over, Dream cups Hob’s cheek and curls the fingers of his other hand around the curve of Hob’s hip in a gesture that is both affectionate and proprietary. “Good morning to you, my beloved.”

Hob smiles–soft and affectionate–and reaches out to smooth his hand across the length of Dream’s flank in a slow caress, from rib to thigh. The warmth of his touch chases away the memory of the cold and fills the chasm in Dream’s chest, sating the part of Dream that hungers for it. 

On the bedside table, the rings of Hob’s alarm chimes and the echo of its sound lingers in the air for a few seconds and then fades, and Dream knows it is time for Hob to start his day. Still, Dream leans over and presses his lips against Hob’s, loath to part ways and intent on basking in Hob’s warmth a little longer. 

When they part, Hob smiles knowingly and cups Dream’s cheek and the gesture is so tender it makes something in Dream’s chest ache. “See you tonight?”

And perhaps Dream will have to leave the warmth of Hob’s presence but he also knows this is the kind of warmth that doesn’t depend on proximity. It is the kind of warmth that will seep from Hob’s skin into his own and will follow him to the Dreaming, keeping Dream’s hunger at bay as he goes about his duties.  Until they will meet again.

“Tonight,” he agrees.

[darkjediqueen]

With New Eyes

Title: With New EyesFandom(s): Teen WolfRelationships: Deucalion/Stiles StilinskiTags: Established Relationship, Hurt/ComfortWarnings: Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceSummary: Stiles would have to learn with new eyes.Word Count: 1,637Notes: Written for Full Moon Ficlet. Prompt 603: Eyes.Beta: Grammarly Continue reading With New Eyes

[dragoon-mid-jump]

FFXIVWrite 2023 Prompt #27: Sole (Modern AU)

sole (adj.): one and only

Rating: T

Word Count: 603

The instrumental of the current song faded out as Y'dehlya drove down the road, giving her a few moments of silence, until...

She heard a familiar piano jingle signaling the start of the next song.

Well, she was alone. And this was from her personal "driving alone" playlist. Even if she had no shame in singing in the car when she had passengers. And she does love her voice.

Aw, what the hell?

"Making my way downtown Walking fast, faces pass and I'm homebound"

She belted the first lines out at the top of her lungs, then bobbed her head to the music.

"Staring blankly ahead Just making my way Making a way through the crowd

And I need you And I miss you And now I wonder"

As she kept up with the lyrics, they did make her think about her partner. She did miss him. She wondered what G'raha was doing right now. They'd scarcely had time for a proper date as of late, much less actually seen each other. It's just been phone calls and text messages, mostly. A few video calls, too.

If she could just see him tonight...

Was he thinking of her right now? Yeah, most likely. The idea of it made her feel warm inside, but it also gave her a twinge of longing for just being with him.

"Oh, 'cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles..."

When was their last date? Months ago before their respective jobs took them into some pretty big projects, if she recalled correctly. A classic dinner and a movie. It had been her turn for the restaurant, and his for the activity. She chose a Thavnarian restaurant, playfully yet annoyingly rolling her eyes at him when he correctly guessed that it was a recommendation from Estinien. He had witnessed her order something new...and apparently beyond her spice tolerance, as she was quick to find out. She powered through her meal for the sake of the novelty, much to his vocal concern, and it actually was delicious.

He picked a recently-released action movie, and paid for a small popcorn and slushie to share between them. He always did enjoy watching those death-defying heroic feats, and she loved listening to his enthusiasm as he gushed over them on the drive back to her place. He had kissed her goodnight when they made it to her front door, and it gradually escalated until he was pinning her against it as they made out. She sighed longingly in the space right before the last verse.

"If I could fall into the sky Do you think time would pass me by? 'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles If I could just see you..."

Her voice quieted.

"If I could just hold you tonight..."

She faded out with the lyrics, and that a twinge of longing grew stronger. There was still daylight out. Maybe after this favor, she could drop by for a surprise visit. Go out of her way. Maybe stay the night, too, if he wasn't too preoccupied with his own work--

"Want a break from the ads? If you tap now to watch a short video, you'll receive 30 minutes of ad free music." Came the app abruptly, snapping her from her thoughts and bashing through the moment like a sledgehammer to soft wood.

"Godsdammit!" She cursed at it. "You fucking mood-kill!" Maybe she should get the ads removed. Somehow.

A few minutes, and annoying ads, later, Y'dehlya arrived at her destination. She took her phone off the mount and dialed a number.

"Hey! I'm right outside. Yeah, okay. Bye!"