#future drabble?

[fangirlingatstuff]

Ronin and reader headcannons (w/ romance if thats fine I couldnt find ur rules page sorry) , you and MK had shrunk together, so maybe sometime after the movie, Nod and Him become "stomper" size and MK's like: "nah dude you gotta go to Y/n's house" and they go to your large slightly dysfunctional loving family to regroup and stuff. You have become my new favorite account bc i found no one who writes Epic, especially Ronin. <3 You have been followed and will be loved aggressively

Yay! Welcome to the club lol the fandom may be slightly dead but that doesnt keep some of us from making content XD Hope you like this hun! Haven’t written much for Ronin so this is fun!

This is definitely not based off of my family nooo why would you think that??? (Tho I only have one brother lol)

When you had first shrunken down and met Ronin, you hadn't been as trustful as MK was.

Given, you went with MK as emotional support so she had someone to fall back on if things didn't go well with her dad, and after being shrunken while stressing about helping out your friend, you were a lot more on edge than she was.

When Ronin made it his job to escort the both of you to Nim's, you weren't as receptive of the idea as MK was, but hey, MK was kind of in need of a strong figure in her life and you weren't going to argue with that.

Over the period of that day, seeing Ronin, talking to him, noticing his own grief, even though he was pretty attractive and it made your heart skip a beat when he pulled you in by the waist to get you away from MK's crazy pug, you told yourself "we just met” and left it at that.

So imagine your surprise, several months later, when MK shows up with both leafmen while your youngest siblings were causing mayhem in the kitchen, your eldest brother wrestling with your dad over the last couple pizza rolls, and your mom stuck in a standoff with the cat since it kept trying to eat the bills on the counter.

MK explained what happened and why Ronin and Nod were suddenly big now, but you weren't able to say anything before she was like “Ok bye! Take care!” And left them with you

You were SO going to get her back for this

Honestly, you were surprised that your family didn’t mind them showing up, but you also lived in a loft above the garage so that you had some privacy from the rest of your family.

After introducing Nod and Ronin as “some of MK’s friends”, you moved them up to your small “apartment”

Nod was already a hit with your youngest two brothers, showing off his sword skills by slicing fruit in the air as they tossed it at him

Ronin took a while to adjust

But slowly he started to talk to you and you two actually had the longest conversation you’ve ever had between the two of you

Ronin didn’t want to intrude or be a burden, so he picked up doing chores (your chores) around the apartment and house while also getting Nod to do your brothers chores

You told him it wasn’t necessary, they were your chores for a reason, but Ronin argued and said that this was thanks for letting the two of them stay

He’s already a big hit with your mom and dad, but they were at work and didn’t see much of him

You were washing dishes after everyone else left the house, either for school or work, when Ronin came in

He was wearing a white henley shirt with rolled up sleeves, something that SHOULDNT have looked that good on him, and immediately stopped to look at you from across the house

“Nope, uh uh,” he hip checked you out of the way and took the plate you were washing

“Hey!” You said

“Let me wash the dishes,” he didn’t even bother letting you argue, to him it was “his duty” to show appreciation by helping around the house

“Ronin,” you whined while trying to take the rag back from him, “c’mon, it’s literally my one chore.”

“You don’t have to do it, I got it,” he said

You huffed and groaned

“How about you wash them and I’ll dry and put them up?” You offer, hand on your hip

He looked at you and thought for a moment

The two of you worked in sync with each other in the small kitchen, you putting up the dishes as Ronin washed them

Occasionally, his hand would linger for a moment longer than usual while handing you the next dish, or you’d glance over to see him quickly looking away

Even when dressed so casually he looked so in charge and strong, it was so weird

It was weird in general to see him out of his armor but you digress

When the last dish was put up, you stretched and wiped down your slightly wet hands before turning to walk out

“Hey Y/n-“ you turned as Ronin reached out for you but hesitated

“Yeah, Ronin?” You raised a brow

He stopped and drew back his hand, brow furrowed in thought

“…thank you. For letting me and Nod stay here. Your family is…very kind.”

You snorted, “Yeah, well you havent seen ‘em on a bad day.”

Ronin chuckled a little at your joke and it made your cheeks turn pink

“But really,” he said, “I don’t know how else to thank you.”

“You don’t have to-“

“No, I do,” he added as you hopped to sit on the counter behind you. “I…I think we got off on the wrong foot, before.”

You blinked in surprise and looked away with a hint of shame, “Yeah, I—that day was a lot for me.”

He sighed, “It…was a lot for me too.”

You lowered your gaze, thinking about the woman who he had ran to as she died, the late queen, Tara

Ronin shook his head and snapped out of it, “Uh, well I-“ he stammered and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m happy MK took us here. It’s been…nice, actually getting to know you.”

You told yourself you were imagining the blush on his face

“Really?” You smiled. “It’s been nice getting to know you too.”

Ronin smiled as you hopped down and opened up the fridge, taking out a gallon of iced sweet tea

“Come on!” You chirped as you passed him and grabbed two glasses, “It’s nice out.”

The two of you sat out in the backyard on the porch, chatting and drinking iced tea, laughing at stories, talking about anything and everything, enjoying the nice spring air late into the evening

When Nod eventually came back with MK after a trip around town, they found the two of you passed out on the porch swing, a thin blanket over the both of you

MK laughed but Ronin never looked so peaceful

Okay it took me a while to come up with this and it isnt immediately romantic but now Im like “…oh? Oh, ok, am I invested in this now???”

So if you like it I can DEFINITELY do more, it took everything in me to NOT just write an entire short fic for this one prompt, it ended up being so much cuter than I expected!!!!

Hope you like it! Its awesome having more people interact with the fandom!!

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

thinking about roomie!suguru, who steps out of the bathroom with just a towel hanging loosely around his waist. it's dangerously low and his happy trail is... leading your eyes to a forbidden place. water droplets cascade down his temple and his neck, his scarred chest and his toned muscles.

he finishes drying his hair with another, smaller towel before slinging it over his shoulder. he gives you a warm smile. there's still a bit of sleep in his tired eyes but he looks fresh, he looks good.

(he looks more than good.)

the morning light shines in through the small window of your shared kitchen and he hums at the smell of coffee. you're an angel leaning on the counter, hands busy with preparing your drink as he steps inside.

he chuckles. he asked you a question but you didn't hear it. he smells so fucking good; the smell of his shampoo and his fancy conditioner wash over your senses and it's easy to forget where you are. his eyes flick behind you before walking over to you with a smug little grin.

he bores his sharp purple eyes into yours – he loves how you react to him. he doesn't shy away from it, he's cockier than he looks. he loves the attention, he loves to be in your spotlight. he wouldn't care so much if you were a stranger, if you were a random person on the street ogling away, ut you're neither of those things, are you? no, you're something else.

he exudes warmth as he towers over you, his head tilted down to keep his eyes on you. he wants to play with you a little – he loves the way you're staring up at him right now. eyes big and wide, lip tucked under between your teeth. he's good with people, he can read them like a book and you're no different. he sees you swallow a dry lump, he sees you grace him with a flustered smile as you try to brush by the fact that he caught you admiring him red handed. he sees the way you're taking deeper breaths than normal, surely just to keep your composure. he can't wait to break you.

his arm reaches behind you to turn off the coffee machine with a small click.

"wouldn't wanna make a mess this early in the morning, now would we?"

melting. crumbling. falling down to your knees. you hate how much he teases (you love it), you hate how patronizing he sounds (it's hot). he's the only one that can get away with it – a charming smile that hides his deepest desires of sinking his teeth into little lambs like you, soft eyes that hide the need to watch them unfold before him.

his gentle hands long to hold, long to keep and covet. he thinks about you a lot; your shared mornings and afternoons, your exhausted naps and bitter rants about your days. shy gazes and lingering touches, stupid jokes and the cute little hidden sounds he keeps hearing from your room in the late hours. he's being patient, he's warming you up.

he's just as infatuated with you as you are with him. he's just more subtle with it.

or is he?

because you've heard him, too.

you don't know whether he's doing it unknowingly or he's actually trying to make you go insane – whichever it is, you are ready to bend at his will. soft groans accompanied by a steady slick pump; you didn't mean to listen in. you just wanted to make sure he's okay!

ear against the wooden door, you listened to him think about you. your name was on the tip of his tongue, but it was too early for that. he wants to smear you with his honey, he wants to drag you in but he needs to wait for it. this is perfect.

he did know you're were there.

he heard the floor creak, he heard the cutest gasp that left your pretty lips. fuck, you're perfect. his head was lolled back as he stroked himself to the thought of your wide, doe-eyes. how flustered you'd be, how flustered you were in that very moment. he imagined your trembling hands and your stuttered words and his dick twitched in his palm.

he thought about inviting you in and just making him watch as a form of punishment, for being a little pervert. he shuddered out a laugh and watched a glob of pre-cum cover his own fingers before mixing with the saliva and spit that's covering him already. he thought about making you sit between his legs so he could jerk off right in front of your beautiful face, he thought about your wobbly lips, your teary eyes. the way your thighs would press together.

your fingers would itch and twitch and he'd make you place them on your legs. he wouldn't want you to touch. yet. maybe he'd make you apologize and maybe he'd make you kiss the tip. he thought about how good you'd smell, how good you'd taste. another raspy groan crawled up his throat and you were about to cum untouched behind his door. like a creep.

he loves it. he's proud of you, he wants to push you even further. he wants to see what else he can make you do. this is exciting and he can't wait to devour you whole as a reward after he's done bullying himself into your body and your mind. utterly loved and corrupted—

— you're meant for him.

[starrystevie]

“i must have been real sweet on you,” eddie murmurs as he runs his fingers over his husband’s cheek, sleepy and sated, warm in their bed. 

steve chuckles, twisting his head to catch the tips of eddie’s fingers with a kiss. “why are you talking past tense? you’re not sweet on me now?”

the room is peacefully still. years of baby monitors are long gone only to inevitably give way to their daughter’s teenage years of slamming doors and too loud stereo speakers. but in this moment, with the pale moonlight streaming in through the windows and crickets chirping in the distance, the room is peaceful, thick with love. 

“quit your pouting, ‘course i’m sweet on you now.” eddie wipes away steve’s fake frown with a kiss, turning it into a sticky sweet grin. “it’s just something my mom used to tell me. that freckles are all the places your soulmate in a past life kissed you.”

eddie pushes steve back so he’s laying flat on the mattress and dips his head to press featherlight kisses on the side of his neck. across his shoulders. over his cheeks. his fingertips flutter over the spots afterwards, leaving goosebumps in their wake despite the heat radiating between them. 

“must have loved you a whole lot in our last lives to leave so many on you now,” eddie whispers, pulling back to stroke the back of his hand over steve’s face once more, letting his lips curl up in a dopey half smile that only steve ever gets to see. 

it doesn’t take long for steve to tilt his head up and press kisses of his own where he can; under eddie’s eye, the bottom of his chin, right over his heart. it doesn’t take long for eddie to giggle as his sensitive spots are found and attacked with ticklish kisses and fluttering eyelashes. it doesn’t take long for their legs to tangle together underneath the sheets and their breaths to get caught in their chests and their hearts to start beating a beautiful melody of their own making. 

steve lays a firm kiss to the side of eddie’s chest, over jagged white scarring and half bitten away tattoos. over memories that somehow don’t haunt them as much anymore. 

“what was that one for?” eddie asks, eyes half lidded, the adoration in his voice loud across the quiet room. 

another kiss on another scar. “wanna give you some freckles. for your next life and for this one, too. so you know just how sweet on you I am-” kiss, “ -and was-” kiss, “- and forever will be.”

they won’t know for however many more years if it worked or not. but here in this lifetime, they have all the time in the world to try their damndest to make sure it does. in this lifetime, they don’t have to worry, because they know they’ll  find each other in the next one. 

[narumi-gens]

dreams aventurine x f!reader

18+ minors/blank/ageless blogs dni, 2.1 spoilers, pregnancy/parenthood

aventurine has never thought of himself as a man who dreams of the future, not beyond a certain point. but there's something about you that makes him doubt himself.

because when he looks at you, when he's near you, when he's inside you, he can't help himself. he thinks about what would happen if he didn't pull out and cum across your ass, your tits, or your stomach, painting your skin in white spurts like he usually does. he thinks about what would happen if he buried himself deep enough for you to feel him in your throat and spilled himself inside of you for once.

what if he didn't climb off of you as soon as he caught his breath. he thinks about what it would be like if he instead stayed there even as he softened, cradled between your thighs, while your arms wrapped around his trembling form to hold him close, your fingers gently running through his sweaty strands, your touch alone doing more to calm his mind than an orgasm ever could.

there are times when he allows himself to imagine beyond even that, but only in his weakest moments when he decides to spend the night, always under the pretense of the late hour, or the bad weather, or how comfortable the bed he bought you is. it's a pretense that you see through, but never challenge him on as you know that doing so would make him leave.

it's only once he's sure that you're deep asleep and he can turn his unguarded gaze to your features in the dark that he dares to let his mind wander beyond the bounds he normally sets. he imagines your stomach swelling as the months pass, of your hand grabbing his to press his palm to your belly to feel the fluttering of new life from within.

he imagines a small bundle pressed to your bare chest, skin-to-skin. you're crying, but so is the newly born infant that you hold so dear. so is he. sometimes, the sunlight shines through the windows of the hospital room, and other times the rain is deafening against the glass.

likewise, sometimes when the baby in your arms opens their eyes to take in the world for the first time, their color mirrors yours. but more often than not, it's his own pink and blue irises looking back at him, promising a life of good luck.

he imagines the feeling of a small palm pressed flat against his own much bigger one, as a young, tiny voice stumbles over the words he tries to guide them through.

he pictures the smile on your face, both adoring and soft, as you watch with tear-filled eyes as he teaches your child the blessing of their people.

as long as you are alive, the blood of the avgin will never run dry.

no matter how many years have passed since he was taken from sigonia in chains, he'll never forget his sister's final words to him. but when he looks at you, when he's near you, when he's inside you, they feel like more than just a memory.

it feels like she's speaking to him across the years, to him now, trying to guide him towards this single future with you instead of any of the infinite other futures he bets everything on.

maybe, if he chose to listen to her, there could be another avgin for gaiathra to bless. maybe, if he ever chose to give in to his weakness, to your warmth, to your softness, to your love, the avgin wouldn't have to live and die with him.

[tervaneula]

These peepaws GAY

[drabbles-of-writing]

On one hand, I think it’d be SO interesting if we never get a direct confirmation that Evelyn is a Clawthorne. Of course she is, we all know she is, but they never say it outright. She, and Caleb, forever haunt the narrative in silence. None of the characters will ever know, and that silence will haunt us, too.

On the other hand, imagine if when Belos is losing his mind and being evil and whatnot, battling Eda, who’s already going through some shit, he ends up saying “Evelyn Clawthorne” either directly towards her like how he was with Flapjack, or just as a taunt.

Cue Eda thinking he’s just an asshole who couldn’t even remember her name, she barely gets to say as such before there’s a “WHAT” off-screen, cut to Hunter and Luz, who were probably supposed to be hiding, looking like this

And tell me this wouldn’t be the funniest fucking shit you’d see in your entire life

[broken-heart-raven-queen]

We all know by now Andrew and Neil are light sleepers because of trauma and being in unsafe places but I just read some of the extras and I picture this scenario:

Andrew wakes up night after night when the cats jump onto the bed the first few months because he is not used to their weight and they didn't learn yet to do get on from Neil's side.

Neil of course gets woken up by Andrew's panic and gets worried (he's also starttled at first) and tries to help and reassure him, but at the end neither of them goes back to sleep.

At the beggining is fine, they are both used to fucked up schedules but they are people and obvious they start to get cranky and fight a lot (more) during the day for silly reasons. Other people is noticing it too and then it affects their performance on the court.

So one night, Andrew decides to "sleep" on the couch (he thinks he could be awake all night binging some show to avoid beeing paranoid) and this is because he saw that Neil really needed to sleep well at least one night. He does not feel guilty, tho, he's just Andrew and cares for Neil way more than he cares about himself.

Ok.

So that night he innevitably falls asleep and is woken up by Sir who is now on his chest curled up as a fluffy ball.

He starts to get mad, but he can't. Not really when he picks the cat up and it is sooooo soft. And then Sir tries to lick his hands (he might be snacking when he passed out) and lets out a quiet "meow" because he can't reach him well.

And Andrew looses it. He starts laughing to the point he cries.

Because everything is fine. It's just a cat. His cat.

And no matter how broken he is, Sir would love him and do it again a million times more. Because he had chosen him.

Just like Neil who's staring at this situation in silence from the livingroom door.

[emile-tb]

tee hee :)

Narrator belongs to @crowv3xd

[moominsuki]

early 20s bakugou and early 20s you meeting the both of you in a decade’s time… you both aren’t particularly close in the present - you orbit around the same friendship groups and katsuki isn’t exactly opening his arms to a warm hug, receptive to your qualms. he has little time for his friends and even less time for new people in his life.

barely eat, sleep, work, repeat. that’s how it is for him after the war and it’s weird knowing him during this stage. he’s still the some snarly, full of bite and venom bakugou from school but sometimes, you can see the lack of sparkle in his eyes when he speaks: when he’s out on patrol with you and he no longer has the energy to snap back at naysayers and snotty nosed kids. he does his job and then he clocks out. simple as that. relationships? dating? they’re not even in his vocabulary.

so it’s easy to imagine the shock in his - both of your faces when he sees 32-33 year old bakugou on the television and the way he is a decade later is antithetical to how he is now. his old personality still shines through (it’s still HIM) but he smiles genuinely when he meets fans now, and the sparkle in his eyes is there all over again - the cheeky sparkle, the one that made you fall for him.

it’s hard to imagine a life in which you’re married to him (self proclaimed mrs bakugou in an architectural digest interview, showing the cameramen around your house while sporting a third trimester bump and gushing over your state of the art kitchen with a fancy le creuset set and an aga that katsuki and friends built for you with their bare hands as a birthday gift) though, it’s probably because the bakugou you know doesn’t even know the bakugou in this timeline. he doesn’t know the bakugou that would joke all carefree and then openly kiss your forehead in the middle of the street.

he doesn’t tell you he wants to know this bakugou.

you guys eventually get back to your timeline, in the present, the one that in which bakugou sneers and he barely eats and doesn’t even know what day of the week it is. it’s only a few, long months later when it’s your birthday and he buys you a gift card for le creuset. he says it’s because you seem to like shitty things like kitchen sets and pots and pans and it doesn’t make sense to him because “they’re all the same shit at the end of the day.”

you laugh a watery laugh that day, tears unshed at his words, though you’re not offended - far from it. you think you can come to love bakugou and you’re excited for when that time will come, no matter how long it may take.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Part 2 to this post

When gay marriage became legal, everyone expected Steve and Eddie to run to the courthouse and get it done.

They’d waited long enough.

But they were watching the news on a hospital room television instead of their home, keeping Wayne company while he received his last chemo treatment.

It had been a really rough six months, Eddie taking the brunt of caring for Wayne so Steve could work and pay the bills for all of them. But they wanted to.

Wayne had done so much for both of them, he deserved to be taken care of now.

The doctors had said he was getting to an age where the chemo would most likely only extend his life by a few years at most, that the cancer growing in his body would only be stopped temporarily by this drug that made him weaker than any cancer could.

At first, he didn’t want it. He told them both it wasn’t worth putting his body through it at his age, but Eddie convinced him through tears that he wasn’t ready to let him go yet.

And Wayne always did have a soft spot for Eddie’s tears.

Every other Friday, Wayne was brought to the hospital by Eddie, sometimes accompanied by Steve if his day off lined up right, hooked up to an IV of fluids and a harsh chemo mix, and kept for observation for 8 hours to ensure it didn’t cause any major issues on his frailer than he’d like to admit body.

The last treatment hadn’t gone well. Wayne ended up having low oxygen levels and high blood pressure, so they kept him overnight. Overnight turned into 3 nights, four days, which is sort of like a cruise to the Bahamas if you take out the fact they were in a hospital in Indiana.

Steve was holding Eddie’s hand as they all watched the tv, their silver wedding bands from a decade ago resting on their ring fingers.

It didn’t have to be legal to mean something to them.

Wayne had been much livelier over the last 24 hours, his blood pressure back at a normal for him level, though his oxygen level still fluctuated between too low and normal.

“Would ya look at that? They did it.”

Steve looked over at where he was sitting up in bed, smiling at the tv.

“They did.”

Eddie was wiping a tear from his cheek.

“Took them long enough.”

Everyone in the room huffed out an unamused laugh.

It did take way too long.

“Steve.”

Steve looked back over to Wayne and noticed he was looking tired again, like the news was the only reason he’d been forcing himself to be awake.

“You remember that bet?”

They’d made a lot of bets over the years, usually during March Madness. Wayne purposely bet against Steve because it was an easy win, even though they liked the same teams and often had similar brackets.

So no, he didn’t really remember whatever bet he was talking about now.

“Oh come on. I’m the old one here. You’re supposed to have great memory.”

“I’ve had like, eight concussions. My memory is like a goldfish.”

Eddie snorted next to him and nodded in agreement. Just this morning Eddie had to remind him that it was trash day despite it being the same day every week for the last 17 years they’d lived in their house.

“You owe me $5.”

“I’d remember that.”

“Eddie asked for you.”

Steve and Eddie looked at each other with concern. Was Wayne having a stroke? Was he slowly losing lucidity? He’d never shown any signs of memory problems, but sometimes being in the hospital had a lot of negative effects.

“When Eddie woke up in ‘86. I told you he’d ask for ya first and he did. Never collected on the bet because you two were too much.”

Steve suddenly remembered everything from that day, tears pooling in his eyes at how all of this started.

If he hadn’t stayed to hold Eddie’s hand then, would he be holding it now? Would they be husbands in every way but legally?

Steve looked at Eddie with a smile.

Then he turned to Wayne and smirked.

“Bet you $5 I propose right now.”

Wayne smirked back at him.

“Bet you won’t.”

Steve gave him the look that said ‘just watch me’ and stood up, dropping to one knee slowly.

“Eddie Munson. We already wear rings. We’ve lived together as husbands for so long, I can’t even believe we aren’t actually married. But I want to be. I want to fill out the stupid paperwork at the courthouse and maybe plan a little wedding with our kids and family. I want to have a honeymoon and be young and in love even though we aren’t young anymore. I want to be yours in every way starting right now. How does that sound?”

Eddie was crying. He was always more emotional than Steve, he just hid it better. Usually.

“You wanna be mine?”

“I’m already yours. I just want us to have everything.”

“Then I wanna be yours.”

“Good.”

Eddie leaned forward and kissed him, more passionately than they usually ever did in public or around Wayne. It was a special occasion, though, what choice did they really have?

After a minute, Steve pulled away and looked over to Wayne.

“Sorry about your $5.”

“I’m not.”

Wayne had never been more pleased to not be able to collect on a bet.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

There isn't much left of Hawkins now. The town is nearly empty, only a few residents here and there, but other than that? Basically a ghost town. It's slowly fading away and those few windows that shine in the night rarely interact.

One of them is the Harrington mansion.

The Harrington mansion was nearly destroyed in the Red earthquake of 1986, and whoever rebuilt it must have had a weird sense of humor, a questionable taste in movies or both. It is a gothic-inspired monstrosity, tall windows, statues, gargoyles, crooked trees and all. People say it is haunted and honestly, it looks the part.

But it's supposed to be full of stuff worth stealing so of course the group decides to go in. Anything to scratch the itch. The guy in the local pawnshop, a vulture who built his business on the misery of others, on their abandoned homes and dreams,  doesn't ask any questions and pays well.

They don't know much about the house, but someone told them it's the perfect target. The Harrington guy who lives there is around fifty and has a known distaste for guns, so they feel confident. Maybe he'll be asleep. Maybe they won't even have to hurt him.

Maybe some of them hope he'll fight. Maybe they need to find an outlet for all that anger. Their families failed them and so has the society, there's nothing for them here, not anywhere else. They just have each other, another damaged group of teenagers and fresh adults, and if roughing that guy up and getting a bunch of valuables in the process gets them some food and maybe a bottle of whiskey to forget it all? It's worth it.

There is light shining through the living room windows and they feel the warmth and luxury they feel they were denied. It's decided, no waiting for the guy to fall asleep.

They kick in the ornate door and prepare to enter the house.

And then it happens: the gargoyle above the main door comes to life.

It descends on them and knocks the first two to the ground immediately. They don't see much of it before darkness takes them, but it has wings, long hair and talons like a hawk. It tosses their strongest friend away as if he was a rag doll. When it squeezes one of the girls by the throat, she can see faded ink on its forearm, a swarm of flying creatures. 

The thought of it being originally human is even worse.

"It's a fucking monster!" one of them sobs as he shuffles back on his elbows, screaming into the dark that will never answer.

That's when Harrington finally joins the hissing monster on the steps, but he isn't afraid. He doesn't even flinch. His hand reaches out and tucks a strand of that long curly hair behind the creature's pointed ear. "A monster?" he smiles at the intruder. "That's no way to call my boyfriend."

Can be read as a standalone, or, if you like more wholesome endings, read it HERE.

[kumeramen]

A Darui x Sakura comic from a drabble by @thefreckledone ₊˚⊹♡

Please do check the rest of their awesome work! There also few Darui x Sakura fic they made if you guys are interested. It may be short but it's worth to read, send lots of love their way while you're at it~!💖

[withacapitalp]

“Okay, so now we add the water, right?”

“No! No water!” Steve practically shouted, grabbing the pot and holding it high above his head so Joyce couldn’t reach it, “Joyce, we’ve talked about this,”

She rolled her eyes, putting the measuring cup on the counter and sighing. Robin and the kids giggled from their spot in the living room, the parade turned down low so they could hear every bit of the clownery going on in the kitchen. Steve turned the evil eye on them and put one hand on his hip. 

“And, peanut gallery, if you want to have food, you’ll want to keep your snark at bay. Unless you want to be the ones in here helping me make an entire Thanksgiving meal for fourteen.”

“Always the mom,” Max sighed, patting her stomach, “I’ll have you know if we’re not eating by five o’clock sharp, Nugget here will be making Lucas drive us to McDonalds,” 

Steve waved her off and turned back to the stove, placing down the pot and stirring his perfectly prepared potatoes. It felt kind of weird to keep thinking of them as kids now that they were all graduating from college. But, to Steve, they would always be kids. No matter how tall, how old, how many nuggets of their own they had, those seven little kids would always be the stupid pre-teens that had given him his life. 

“Now, it’s important to remember to continue to whisk, or else they’ll get clumpy.” Steve instructed in a no nonsense tone. He had eaten enough of her radioactive cooking to know where she would start to lose sight of the final product. 

“Are you torturing my wife?” Hopper asked as he entered into the fray, grabbing another round of beers for him and the boys. Steve could just catch the sound of Jonathan and Wayne yelling at the TV in the bedroom upstairs, calling the referee out on some bullshit play. 

“This is the real question, Hop. Is your wife torturing my husband?” A voice came from behind him, soft and buttery. A voice Steve had desperately missed, even though this trip had only been a short few weeks.

Steve hummed, leaning back into Eddie’s arms and letting his eyes slip shut for a second. Eddie had only been in Chicago for three weeks to re-record something for his newest album, but to Steve it was always too long.  Warm pale arms littered with scars came up around him, fingers playing with the silver chain around his neck. No government would ever recognize it, they couldn’t really tell the world, but the ring on that chain was everything to Steve, just like the man who had given it to him. 

“She is,” Steve fake-whispered into Eddie’s ear, “She’s trying to poison us all with liquid potatoes,”

“Lucky for us, we have you,” Eddie whispered back, pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek from behind, “God bless you, Mr. Potato Man.”

Steve snickered, turning around so he could fully face his partner. Eddie’s hair was shorter now than it was when they were young and stupid, and he was starting to get crows feet in the corner of his eyes.

He was more beautiful every time Steve saw him. 

“Quick! Eddie distract him while I put water in the potatoes!” Joyce cried. Eddie immediately went along with it, yanking Steve away from the stove and ignoring his protests as she began to experiment. Steve conceded defeat the second the paprika was pulled out of the cupboard. Some things would just never change. 

Eddie dragged him into the hallway, hiding them ever so slightly from the rest. 

“Glad to be home,” He murmured, hugging Steve close and resting their foreheads together. 

Home. The home Eddie had bought him all those years ago. The carpet in the living room was a soft cream now instead of gaudy orange, and there were boxes filled with mums in each window. The mold problem had been fully eradicated, but the screen door still swung open and shut in the wind. 

Steve didn’t mind it anymore.  It was just a part of the charm of their house. 

Their house. Even now it made his heart fill to the bursting to think of it. Their house.  

But now that Eddie was back, it was really home. 

[orchidsangel]

cooking with jason would be so cute omg imagine making him wear an apron and everything :((

making him wear a kiss the cook apron and taking advantage of it by kissing him every few minutes. he doesn't even resist, just puts it on with a grin because he sees the smile on your face (and he gets kisses).

if you know how to cook then he splits the tasks between the two of you, you on prep and him on cooking (or vice versa). weaving between eachother and stealing kisses while chopping up ingredients and stirring pots. if you don't know how to cook then he lets you taste and give him feedback, but for the most part you just sit on a stool and watch him while he does all the heavy work. you'll set the table for two, which takes all of three minutes, and then go back to watching him. talking and chatting, catching up on all the stuff you haven't been able to talk about with his unpredictable schedule.

[drabbles-of-writing]

MONSTERFUCKER RAINE WHISPERS TRUTHERS HOW ARE WE FEELING TONIGHT

[serenescribe]

I’ve been infected with the fever of Lilia’s bats adopting Silver as their non-bat pup, and it’s adorable! I suppose this is just me asking to see Lilia seeing his bats chitter and nuzzle Silver as a child or as a teenager. Whichever you prefer~!

[✐] ficlet frenzy

“Silver? Siiilver?”

No response. Lilia sighs, hands resting on his hips. Now where could his son be at this time of the day?

He’d just returned home after a trip to the market, and had called out Silver’s name in hopes of hearing a sleepy response and the soft pattering of feet before his son emerged at the front door. But today, he heard nothing.

And so Lilia had glanced around the house, leaving the groceries in the kitchen in favour of checking every nook and cranny of their little cottage. At the very least, he can still sense Silver’s presence somewhere, even if he can’t find him. Perhaps he’s playing a game of hide and seek? It’s a distinct possibility, Lilia supposes.

He comes up empty-handed until he tries the one room he had saved for last, for no reason outside of the fact that he can’t think of any explanation why Silver would be in there. With a flick of his wrist, the door to Lilia’s bedroom creaks open, the doorknob turning with the help of magic, and…

“Ah,” Lilia says, as he looks into his room.

He understands now why Silver couldn’t reply. Because Silver had been preoccupied.

Dozens of his bats — those sneaky little rascals! — surround Silver, chittering and flapping their wings at Lilia as he steps into the room. Lilia scoffs, rolling his eyes as he approaches the bed his son lays on. “Don’t give me that attitude,” he lectures, even as the bats huddle closer to the slumbering human boy, pressing against his neck and shoulders, clinging to his clothes and hair. Lilia squints, peering closer. “Did you cover his ears?!”

One of his bats — the largest of the group, and the boldest one, who always makes a habit of clinging to Silver even when Lilia chases the others off — squeaks out a response. Lilia folds his arms, lips twisting into a pout. “I told you, you cannot hoard him for yourself!” Another protesting whine. “‘Why not?’” Lilia echoes. “Oh, for the love of— we’ve been over this already! You can have your quality time with Silver, but you cannot hoard him like this! How heavy do you think you all are, hm, crowding him like that?”

The bats do not seem to care. Bastards, Lilia sulks, tapping his foot against the ground as they nuzzle into Silver, continuing to strategically cover his ears with the thin membrane of their wings in order to stop him from waking at the sound of his father’s voice.

Of course his pesky familiars don’t give a damn. They know the real reason why Lilia keeps fending them off — a deep-rooted jealousy that feels pathetically childish to admit, hidden under the guise of whatever excuse Lilia can think of on the spot.

“You win this time,” Lilia grumbles, throwing his hands up in defeat. “But mark my words, if you make Silver miss dinnertime again, I swear—”

The bats chirp back their protests, and Lilia’s voice pitches.

“You have no RIGHT to criticise my culinary skills when you can’t even COOK!”