#quick writings

[leatafandom]

Forgetful

Fandom/Ship: Supernatural/ Sam Winchester/Gabriel

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 257

Warnings and Tags: post season 13, older Sam, allusions to dementia, early symptoms, prompt fic, almost drabble, forgetfulness, grace, angst, whump, established relationship (only if you squint), bittersweet

Summary:  They all had been noticing how forgetful he was lately. Inspired by @fanfictionlibrary01 drabble prompt: Forgetful.

Author Note: Ah man, I wrote one happy thing and then immediately returned to my bittersweet love fest. Heh, well it's bittersweet for me, I just love the idea of an immortal being staying with an aging human forever and the human still being human. It just soothes me, so have some aging Sammy and the forever young and ancient archangel.

Read, Forgetful, Rated Teen, in full below or on my Ao3.

*note, this story (and all of my others) on Ao3 is locked for registered Ao3 users.

Forgetful

It was happening more often. 

Sam had never really been forgetful before, sure there were little things here and there. A spell, a birthday, and the ever present: "Where did I leave my keys, again?"

However, lately it had been more frequent. Like a fog was settling over his every thought, shrouding memories long cherished in secrecy. It was all on the tip of his tongue, right there but forever out of reach.

He found himself talking, laughing as he retold one of his favorite hunting stories, and then in a blink, it was gone. His brows furrowed, his tongue limp in his mouth and his jaw slightly slack. He shifted his feet, a stutter of disbelief leaving him as his eyes dashed from side to side, attempting to jog his mind back into action. Regardless of how much he tried, or how long, it as gone, vanished like a shell swept out to sea by the tides.

"It was a cat, wasn't it, Samheart?"

A warm hand touched the back of his, and he blinked at the spark that seemed to push the fog from his memory, spreading through him via the archangel's touch. He blinked, looking from concerned patient faces towards the celestial’s reassuring and timeless smirk, the entity commanding the vast tides of his mind to push the shells back to shore.

The brunette nodded, slowly focusing on the reassurance of Gabriel's easy smile. "Yeah, yeah right," he swallowed, pushing away everything except the spark Gabriel had relit within his mind. "So he’s screaming…"

[leatawrites]

A Dolly in the Dark

Day 8: Missing 

Work Count: 364

Author Notes: These past two weeks have been so crazy, and this week still isn't over, but I finished one. It's a very short musing I had about a creepy little doll. Written for @31-daysofhorror prompt eight!

Sarah stared at the empty space. She had passed the shelves every day and night for the past five days. Her blue eyes frantically searched the cabinet that was overflowing with knick-knacks. The cabinet was filled with bobbles and boxes, handmade and old, but not the empty vessel with bright green eyes. Her feet went back a step as she looked at the space where the doll had been. 

Since she had arrived at the bed and breakfast, a trip meant to relax, the doll had haunted her stay. The old porcelain doll had greeted her when she entered. The doll’s green glass eyes set above a painted smile had startled Sara out of her skin. She had done her best to avoid looking at the little thing that sat so prim and proper, but the doll had always been there. Unseeing eyes following her as she went about trying to write on her laptop or get ready for the day. 

Before its disappearance, Sara had been contemplating putting a sheet over her. However, the idea of not seeing the antique doll filled her stomach with dread. The same fear she was feeling now. Her fingers clutched her sleeping shirt as she looked around her room. She was sure no one had come in while she had been gone, nothing was moved out of place as she tipped about the room towards the door. The idea of climbing into bed for the night was a far gone dream now that the doll was missing. 

Sara's heart beat faster, hair prickling on the back of her neck at the feeling of being watched. The feeling that had haunted her ever since she had stepped into the room. Her eyes widened, turning quickly and seeing nothing, her breath coming in quick inhales. Fear gripped her heart, neck twisting and turning to try to find the doll to find what was watching her. She didn't stop looking around until her eyes landed on the lamp by her bedside. Her chest heaved with her breath, only to stutter out of her when her eyes finally found the doll of her nightmares just as it turned out the lamp.

[nipuni]

"He's ancient and forever, He burns at the centre of time, He can see the turn of the universe. And... he's wonderful"

[xoxojisu]

thinking abt being scared to be too clingy w katsuki...

"jisu you seem like you think abt being too clingy a LOT. didn't you just recently write this fic and that fic that are basically the exact same prompt?" no you can sybau.

you’re standing in the doorway of his dorm, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

he’s sitting on the bed, back against the headboard, legs spread just enough to be inviting without trying. hoodie half-zipped, sweats hanging low on his hips, phone in one hand, completely relaxed.

you are not.

you want to sit with him. in his lap. be tucked in, held tight, kissed maybe once or twice until you melt into him like sugar in hot tea.

but your feet don’t move.

you feel like if you climb into his space first, it’ll make it obvious how badly you want it. how you’ve been thinking about it all day. how when you woke up this morning, a part of you was already aching for his arms.

and what if he doesn’t want that right now?

what if he’s tired, or busy, or just not feeling it?

you shift from foot to foot.

his eyes flick up for only a second before going back to his phone.

“you comin’ in or just gonna stand there lookin’ like an idiot?”

your cheeks flush a little.

“shut up.”

he hums. doesn’t banter. just sets his phone aside, like, completely, not even face-up, and looks at you properly now. tilts his head a little.

and you see it. the way his gaze softens. the way his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile, because if he does, the world will probably collapse or something.

he opens his arms. slow, easy.

“c'mere.”

you hesitate. not because you don’t want to. but because you do, and that’s the part that always scares you. you want him so much. you love him with your whole heart and soul and would spend every second being close with him if you could. but does he? are you being too much? too clingy? your own insecurity and self-doubt eats at you.

he catches that in your face. always does. so he adds, voice lower now:

“c’mon, sweetheart. don’t make me ask twice.”

maybe the nickname does it. or maybe it's his tone, or the look in his eyes. either way, it does you over.

you pad over quietly, still a little unsure, until you’re standing between his knees. he reaches for your hips, not rough like how he does most things, but careful, like he doesn’t want to rush you.

“lemme hold you, yeah?”

you nod.

and that’s it.

he pulls you in, smooth and easy, guiding you into his lap like you’ve always belonged there. one arm wraps firm around your lower back. the other slides up under your hoodie to settle warm against your spine.

he exhales deep, like tension he didn’t even notice was there just fell out of his chest.

“fuck. there you are.”

you melt.

your face tucks into his neck. your arms go around his shoulders. your whole body curls up like it knows exactly how to fit against him now. no more guessing. no more hovering.

he rubs your back, slow and steady, fingers dragging ticklishly but soothingly along skin.

“you don’t gotta wait for me to say it every time,” he mumbles into your hair.

“if you want this, just take it. always want you close.”

you nod against his neck, lips brushing warm against his pulse.

and he holds you tighter, just for a moment, like he needs to be sure you believe it.

you do.

masterlist

[theorphicangel]

cat kuna who sits in your suitcase when you're packing for a trip. he's stubborn and he won't move.

he's not...sad. just a little distraught that you're leaving and you didn't tell him in advance. (you did tell him but he was too busy scoffing down that tuna fish to listen to you)

your eyes meet his little red ones and by the rapid movements of his tail you can tell that he's getting a little agitated. your maine coon takes half of your suitcase space and every time you try and place your clothes down he either hisses or attempts to swat at you.

'i'm just leaving for a day or two kuna. nothing more, nothing less.'

'meow.'

'don't give me that attitude, someone will be looking after you.'

silence hits the room. sukuna's tail stops.

'yes, it's gojo. our neighbour who pays for your vet check ups and your monthly food bill from that expensive, luxury cat food company, be grateful.'

grateful? grateful his ass. he'd rather eat nothing but dry corn than eat another dish paid by your neighbour who always loves to come over for a quick chat. and best believe sukuna has given him all the scratches and bites in the world but that white haired freak keeps coming back.

like fleas.

'kuna if you're going to act this way I might as well not even go. you're being a pain in the ass and you know it....'

he gives no response, deciding to lick at his paw whilst remaining in your suitcase.

'but I guess that's what you want huh.'

[the-raindeer-king]

You're sitting at your desk, typing away at your computer as you work, totally in the zone until there's a nudge at your chair. And then you're moving, chair turned around as Simon spins you around. You blink in surprise, before giggling softly, tilting your head back to look up at him.

He leans down, hands on the arms of your chair, blocking you in as he leans in for a kiss. When he pulls away, there's a furrow in his brows, and he grumbles quietly, "I'll be back." He's gone before you can question it.

A few minutes later, he's making his way back into the room, a screwdriver in hand. He spins you around again, before dropping to his knees by your chair. Without a word, he starts to tighten the screws on your chair.

The arms had been wobbly since you got the thing, something that you had just grown accustomed to. Never once did it cross your mind to bring it up to Simon.

You can't help but giggle softly, watching the way his arms flex as he swings you the other way so he can reach the other arm. He doesn't even glance up at you, solely focused on his task at hand.

"Thank you, Simon," you giggle out, as he rises to his feet, finished.

He leans down, catching your lips in another quick kiss, mumbling a soft, "Welcome, love."

[kawareo]

Frog...

Illustration for the previous chapter of Godsbound!

[legolambi]

say it with me melvik pre series toxic situationship

[wolviesdoll]

jason who drives fast but never when you're passenger. not that he's a careless driver normally, he just cares much more about what could happen to you than what could happen to him. normally he's the type who accidentally runs a red light because he misjudged the distance and thought he could pass a yellow. maybe he's went over a couple curbs here and there when turning, and maybe his stops aren't the smoothest either. what could he say? it's not like he ever took a drivers ed class. however, when his everything is sitting right next to him, how could he not be careful? he's slowing down into his stops, eases into his turns, and doesn't speed before the yellow light could turn red. he takes passenger princess literally in the way he makes sure you're comfortable and cared for.

he was much more precautious about his motorcycle. jason hesitated for months to finally let you on. he originally wasn't going to let you on at all, but unfortunately for him, he's susceptible to your pleading and gave in eventually. he gave you a lecture about the proper clothes and making sure your helmet was on at all times beforehand, setting a clear rule that could not be broken. there's nothing he's more serious about than your safety. he keeps your arms wrapped around his torso and gently taps your thigh when he feels you're not hugging him tight enough. he even got a custom helmet made to fit you perfectly, despite him rarely letting you join him. that's not to say he doesn't like it when you're with him. he likes feeling you behind him, likes the way your hair is tousled by the wind and helmet combo. but best of all he likes the way you smile afterward, a toothy grin with stars in your eyes and adrenaline still coursing through your veins. he loves making you happy most of all, and if a late night ride on his motorcycle does the trick, he can be persuaded.

[rooksamoris]

Leona knew it was foolish to let something get between him and a nap. He looked down at the figure sleeping against his warm body. He could feel your breath against his chest. His ears twitched every time a little snore would escape you... he would have to bother you about that later. Just the night before you argued about whether or not you were a snorer. He should have taken out his phone to record some proof.

How did he let himself become so vulnerable? Like a domesticated house cat. He already collected the rodents and bugs because you were too scared to do it yourself.

The weather was nice today, the sun was up, but not blazing, the shade offered a comforting coolness. The grass was as welcoming as a bed after a hard day at practice. This was the perfect situation for a nap, and yet the slacker prince could not find it in him. He frowned at the thought. Watching you seemed to be so much more interesting. How did he get here, in his homeland, under a tree, with a bothersome rascal laying on his chest? And why did he want to keep you there forever?

He sighed and slipped one arm behind his head while the other reached down to poke your sleeping cheek, “And you drool,” he muttered, but where disgust should have filled his tone, there was a hint of fondness instead, “I could attack you right now,” he added, but he and the leaves shading you both knew he would never do it. 

Your cheek was pressed up on your arm, which was splayed on his chest like it belonged there.  

A little breeze went through the savanna, brushing through his hair and the trees. It was not too warm and not too cool today. He wrapped his arm around you, letting his hand rest on your back where he rubbed up and down. It was a move he learned from you. When he would bring you to cuddle in his dorm room, you would roll your eyes and rub his back, up and down, soothing him. Leona was too proud to admit how much he loved it. It was a strange thing, wanting to bring someone the same comfort they brought you.

You belonged here. With him.

©rooksamoris 2025. do not steal or translate my work!

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[leatafandom]

Burn with Me

Fandom/Characters: The Magnus Archives - Agnes Montague

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 178

Warnings and Tags: quick musings, death, burn, flames, burning, quick writings, mentions of Jack Barnabas, Agnes Montague/Jack Barnabas

Summary: Some very brief thoughts on Agnes Montague.

Author Notes: When I saw this prompt, all I could think about was Agnes. Inspired by @fanfictionlibrary01 drabble prompt: Burn.

Read, Burn with Me, Rated Mature, in full below or on my Ao3.

*note, this story (and all of my others) on Ao3 is locked for registered Ao3 users.

Burn with Me

There was always the burn.

It was all she was, all she knew, and all she remembered in the end.

Everything she touched, she was, she could be. Burned.

There would always be burning. It was consuming.

But nothing was sweeter than her flame, than the destruction it could bring. Though perhaps he— the idea of him, of them— could attempt to try to come close, but it could never be.

The sweet fire laced with oranges and reds that caressed and soothed as much as they stole and eradicated. It was all there was or would be or could be.

As that’s what they did, her god-- her reason for existing. It stole and destroyed until there was nothing left but flames and the ever lasting burn of complete desolation.

It was her home, her only real home. A home made of burning flames and loss and suffering.

It housed and held her, but in the end it would destroy her too. It was all she would ever be, an echo of fire, pain, and loss incarnate.

[leatawrites]

Corpse Cruise

Day 20: Cruise

Warnings and Tags: death, murder, corpses, blood, ship jacking, quick writings

Word Count: 255

Author Notes: Another short one for @31-daysofhorror prompt 20. 'Cause my brain is fried, and I need to write something new that doesn't turn out depressing or smutty. At least this is just bloody.

💀🧡 Happy Haunting 🧡💀

Corpse Cruise

They were off course, even without looking through the portholes you could feel it in the air. The sea was different here. The water was fighting them, determined to drag the ship down into her depths. 

The passengers were huddled and gathered on deck three, even the ones that were no longer breathing. Their bodies stacked like a mountain of death within the place that had been filled with music only hours before. The atrium’s colorful floors stained red with blood as more of the passengers filled the dining halls. 

The metallic scent gagging the rest and drowning out the smell of the salty air. No one had seen them coming. No one had seen them board, and only the dead had witnessed the glint of their swords before the end had taken them. Wet thuds echoed through the sounds of their cries and whimpers, another body thrown down the grand staircase and crashing into the hoard. 

A brave soul peeked through their fingers, trying to spot who had thrown the stocky man down, but found nothing at the top. They didn't dare peek longer, afraid of the consequences of finding their face, of seeing the ones that had gutted the crew and half the ship. Hands covering their tearing eyes faster and burying their head in their torn swim trunks. 

This was only meant to be a weekend cruise, a fun cheap time at sea before returning to their mind-numbing life on land. Now all they hoped for was to see the shore again.

[sunsburns]

guess

smut 18+, age gap, fem reader, underwear fixation

logan howlett loves to swear up and down that he’s too old to mess around with a pretty young thing like you. you’re out of his league in everything you do, from the way you can get up early in the morning and stay out late at night, stumbling back into your apartment in a fit of giggles, humming the last song that played at the club you were returning from.

he acts like he doesn’t notice, and he acts like you don’t exist. but the moment you bumped into him in the laundry room it’s been hard to ignore you.

it was wade who’d introduced the two of you to each other when he was giving logan the grand tour of the apartment complex, and they’d run into you while you were unloading a drier, tossing your clothes into a basket.

you in your tiny shorts and tight tank top, one earbud in and the other dangling by your chest. he tried hard not to stare, especially when you slowly straightened yourself up, holding your basket of clothes to your side, hair messy and sticking to your face a little bit.

it was hot in the laundry room, hell, the whole fucking building felt like a furnace now that the a.c. refused to work in the peak of summer.

but there you were, wide smile and open arms when wade shoved logan in your direction. you didn’t take it personally when he merely grunted at you, a slight nod to his head as a greeting. to logan’s surprise, your lips curled as you looked up at him, and you stared up at him like he was some kind of tree you wanted to climb.

no shame about it either.

logan’s eyes were drawn to your basket as wade spoke, retelling the whole story of how the two of you became ‘neighbour besties’, as he had put it. how you helped wade keep up with the ‘youngsters’, as he called them.

no, logan was too busy staring at a lacy black pair of panties sitting at the top of your basket. pretty little thing, pretty little bows to adorn it.

he slowly tore his eyes away from them and looked at you, then down to your hips where he could see your bright pink underwear, peaking out from the denim.

and maybe, in a dream or two, he imagined what those cute pink ones looked like in full. how it would be like to push you against your door before you could even unlock it, unbutton your shorts and dig his hands into them just to feel the soft fabric of your pretty pink underwear, soiled and ruined from how wet you were with want.

but for now, he’d have to do with the black lacy ones, he almost didn't want to take them off. running his hands over the fabric, grinning when your back arches against the bed, a little desperate, way too needy.

you’ve soaked them, all ruined just from him touching you, from the way his teeth teased you, pulling at the bows, running his nose over your clothed pussy.

logan hooked his fingers over the fabric at the center, pulling it to the side, tongue poking into your cunt, drawing out a whine from you. with an open mouth, he pulled back to see your slick, coated lips with a satisfied grunt.

logan pulled them back just to stare. fuck, they were so pretty. you were so pretty just sitting under him, in nothing but those pretty panties. yeah, logan might be old, but he can keep up for a night.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Historians Hate Him

(Bonus: Lost footage of WWX's death)

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[blitzy-blitzwing]

Now kiss. :V

[bluerosefox]

Gala Woes and Worries

Hmmmmmmmm

Again I am in a deaged Dani and Dan kick but lets mix in the idea of Danny being forced to attended a gala Vlad is hosting.

He deaged Dani and Dan and is making sure Danny can't do anything that will embarrass him during the gala via threatening them and putting an anti-ecto shock collar/watch/something on Danny to make him behave.

He just wasn't expecting the Bats, coughWaynescough, to start snooping around or for them to find the two hidden toddlers who are more than ready to make their 'daddy' pay for being a meanie to them and their 'mommy'

(Psst lets make the misunderstanding so much worse when someone, most likely Babs, looks up how long Vlad has been in Danny's life and how old the 'twins' are.)