#red envelope ficlets

[meowmeowriley]

Ghoap Actor AU but 'Ghost' is the stage name used by a a mysterious man who takes "faceless" rolls. Rolls that require pounds of makeup, tons of prosthetics, huge armor suits and feats of puppeteering. No one knows what he looks like, or his real name, and he likes it that way.

Sorry, it got kinda long lol, ficlet after the cut.

Johnny is a new face but damn is he winning hearts quickly. He loves fantasy and sci-fy rolls, and for him getting cast as the heart throb muscle-bound hero is as easy as smiling. A smile which sweeps any and all off their feet, straightness be damned.

Working next to The Ghost is as much a dream come true as it is fucking terrifying. His list of rolls is as long as Johnny is tall, the man is a legend.

Said legend stalks into the catering tent in full makeup, extras scattering because the man is honestly pretty intimidating. Ridges and bumps, red skin and horns, all work to completely dehumanize his features and frighten away any potential lunch buddies. After grabbing his food he stalks back out wordlessly.

They hadn't shot any scenes together yet, but the schedule called for the two of them to be working together nearly every hour of the next week, and John was determined to make a good impression. He grabbed his own food and swiped some fancy wrapped chocolates, perhaps to share and make friends, and scampered out after Ghost.

The man was seated alone, at a table under a tree. He'd popped his fake fangs out and sat them on his tray, and was digging into his sandwich. Red hands tipped in wicked red claws expertly avoided spearing and shredding his food.

Johnny plopped down across from him.

"Cannae be comfortable, wearin' all 'o that all day." Best to get the whole 'being Scottish' thing out if the way immediately, he often had to hid his accent for rolls and this was no exception. Opening his mouth and speaking naturally always garnered a huge reaction, generally glee, from his co-stars. Though, if Ghost was surprised by it, he made no comment.

"Been doin' it for years, 'm used to it." John found himself the one surprised, he hadn't expected the man's voice to be so lovely. Nor had he expected the man to be a fuckin' brit. Clearly he'd also been masking his accent. Shame, Hollywood always loved an evil Brit.

Delighted by this new discovery, Johnny launched into introducing himself, gushing about the rolls he'd seen Ghost in and how he'd loved his performances. Ghost didn't respond much, but slitted pupils with gold and red irises never left him, and even through the makeup a small smile played at the corner of his bright red lips.

Ghost didn't participate much, throwing out a hum or a nod, an occasional quip, but Johnny quickly realized the man was simply quiet, as every time he stopped he'd receive a few words, a gentle nudge to keep going. All was well until Johnny finished his meal and started in on his chocolates.

He'd held one out to Ghost, who took it, and wordlessly sat it on his tray, mirth dancing in his eyes, amplified to a mildly animalistic predatory level by his contacts.

Johnny had rolled with it, assuming the man was just happy about the sweet, and popped his own in his mouth. Only to spit it back out immediately after crunching down.

"Ach, that is VILE, the fuck is wrong with this chocolate?" Johnny stuffed his fingers into his mouth, attempting to scrape the bits that had secured themselves in and between his teeth.

A deep rumbling belly laugh enveloped him, the sound coated his body, every last inch of him, and locked it into place. Fingers still stuffed into his mouth and crouched over like a golem, Johnny watched wide eyed as Ghost leaned back, shoulders heaving and a clawed hand over his brow as he laughed uncontrollably at John's plight. "It's not chocolate," the man gasped out, "it's bloody hand soap!"

Johnny groaned and spat out his fingers as well as a few bubbles. He'd grabbed them from beside the hand washing station, but hadn't thought anything of it. Why the fuck were they wrapped all fancy like?!

Ghost stood, and clapped a hand on Johnny's shoulder. "I look forward to working with you, Johnny." He sighed between fits of laughter. He grinned and popped his fangs back in. "Keep up, Soap."

Johnny turned and watched Ghost stalk back into the catering tent to return his tray, silicone tail swishing side to side, really lending itself to Ghost's jolly demeanor as he left, still chuckling. Johnny felt his face flush, knew he must be as red as Ghost's makeup, in embarrassment, knowing he was gonna be stuck with a ridiculous nickname, but also from realizing he was still bent over and staring at Ghost's ass. Was his ass really that nice, or were those heels, designed to look like hooves, just working absolute wonders?

Thus began Soap's insane crush on a man he knew nothing about, not even how he looked.

[cambion-companion]

First of all, hi! Hope you're having a good day/afternoon/night!

Ok, so, since ficlets requests are open, this is something that has been on my mind for a few days now and it's like Tav/Reader doing horn care to Raphael's horns like polishing them or just appreciating this man's horns because i...i love them (don't know if this makes sense but yeah)

FAM! I have been WANTING to write something like this for so long now, thank you for giving me an excuse hehehe you know how much I love his horns!

Horn Balm a balm for horniness

Raphael x gn!reader

Having a cambion between your thighs was certainly an item never on your bucket list. However, you couldn't complain.

The water, soft and warm as liquid silk, surrounded the both of you. The heat from Raphael's cherry skin soaking nicely into the muscles of your legs as he sat below you, his back turned so you were unable to see his bemused expression.

"Just sit still." You pressed your calves either side of his shoulders and scooted close, thrilling at his proximity. "I had to chase down the merchant for this, especially after describing who it was for."

"Did you now?" Raphael relaxed marginally, leaning back again until you had to maneuver your upper body so as to not get brained by one of his horns. "I do not recall requesting such a delightful service. Horn balm is a far cry from a crown after all., little mouse."

"It's a start." You muttered and squeezed your legs a little vindictively, earning yourself a low chuckle from the cambion. "You could just say thanks." You dipped your fingers into the tin and spread the oily substance between them experimentally.

Raphael's hand rose, dripping water along your leg as he traced a finger lazily up your skin causing you to shiver. "I could, but that would be quite unlike me. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Hmm." You were too busy beginning to tentative work of spreading the balm along the rough edges of his horns. "Stop moving."

Raphael had taken a quick inhale through his nose, the frown evident in his voice now. "What potent smell is that?"

"You're one to speak of potent smells, mister musk."

"I am beyond your reproach, my dear." Raphael moved his head again, causing you to curse as a sharp edge of his horn nicked your thumb.

Hearing your little gasp of pain, Raphael took your wrist and pulled the injured hand over his shoulder to inspect. "A rose would have done greater damage." He kissed the drop of blood off your skin and released you, keeping his head held still this time. "Continue."

"I thought the smell wasn't agreeable." You moved your feet languidly in the warm bathwater, enjoying the teasing banter, returning to your work of massaging the oil into Raphael's horns.

"It isn't. However, your presence here is. For the moment."

That softened you. Your fingers traced every curve and ridge until the slick balm soaked in. His horns proved far more porous than you'd initially thought they'd be.

You had often admired the shape of the cambion's horns, thinking in many ways they resembled a crown. A slight dusting of red pigment covered them, like fine powder left too long upon the otherwise dark surface. Quite like the man himself, his horns were beautiful and alluring yet dangerous to handle as had already been demonstrated.

"Enjoying yourself?" Raphael cut into your silent thought, drawing your attention back to the present.

"It's tolerable." You lied, quite unwilling to tell him the truth of your enjoyment. Though the prickle up your spine intuited he already knew.

Raphael chuckled then reached up to remove your hands from his horns, imperiously signaling for you to be done. "I deem that to be quite enough for the present."

You disentangled yourself and slid into the bathing pool next to him, sighing as the water enveloped you. Raphael conjured a mirror and admired your handiwork for a moment. He raised a brow. "I owe you my thanks." He stretched his arms and wings along the side of the bath, sinking a little lower. "You're so eager to please me. I normally do not allow such gestures of...service." His head tilted a little as those familiar hellfire eyes scanned you. "However, you inspire indulgence in unprecedented ways."

[thicctails]

Hidden Saplings | Under The Falls AU

A lil ficlet of Stan discovering the twins after the death of their dad, Sherman Pines. Tw: Minor character death, unintentional child abandonment, vomiting

It was early September when Stanley got the letter.

He'd just gotten done helping Rico with some "friendly negotiations" and had pushed open the door of the run down motel he'd been staying at, intent on jumping into the shower and then passing out for however long his body allowed him to, when he noticed an envelope resting on the dingy carpet.

Ignoring the way his bruised knuckles ached, Stanley scooped the envelope up and squinted at it, trying to make out the writing in the dim evening light. His brows raised when he saw his mother's frilly, flowing handwriting printed on the face of the envelope, and he quickly produced a small knife from his pocket, slicing it open as he made his way over to his bed.

He hadn't spoken to his mother in... God, six, seven months? He always feared that it would be his father who picked up the phone, so although his gambles had paid off so far, he wasn't about to tempt fate. He wondered what was so important that she would go to the effort of writing to him.

Sliding the letter out, Stanley set the knife and envelope aside before rubbing the grit out of his eyes and glancing down at the paper.

"My dearest Stanley,

I'm not entirely sure how to write to you about this, but I know that I must somehow find the words.

Your father and I were visited by the police the other day. They told us that Sherman's home had been broken into by a violent criminal while he and his wife were sleeping."

"I don't know how to-

They're gone, Stanley. Someone found out our secret and murdered them. My little angel is gone because someone wanted to take his scales or have some kind of sick trophy. Thankfully, the magic is still working to trick everyone, so everyone believes that Shermie was just a Halloween enthusiast.

Words cannot describe how I'm feeling, and I'm so sorry that you have to find out this way.

I know you didn't get to know Sherman very well, since he came home so little, but I have a favor to ask of you. The funeral is being delayed while the investigation finishes, but the police are allowing us to visit the house to retrieve some personal items and photos. I'd like you to go to Sherman's house and pick out a few photos for the funeral and send them to me. I know it's far for you, but your father and I have to organize the funeral, and your brother hasn't been answering my calls.

I've put Shermie's address below. I'm so sorry, my little free spirit. I know you probably won't be able to come to the funeral. I know you want to, and that you loved your brother. I miss you, I love you, and again, I'm sorry I had to write to you about this.

-Ma"

Stanley dropped the letter, eyes still locked on the spot where it had been. It felt as though time had stopped, and he wasn't sure if he was going to throw up or pass out.

'Throwing up it is.' he thought numbly as nausea bubbled up in his gut. Stanley shot up and staggered into the bathroom, just barely managing to grip the seat of the toilet as his dinner came rushing back up his throat. Stomach acid and cheap liquor burned like fire as he heaved into the toilet, wincing and hacking.

The contents of the letter jostled around like a jar of shaken hornets, and forming a cohesive thought seem to be as difficult as keeping hold of sand. Once his stomach stopped rejecting everything, Stanley wiped ah his mouth and shakily pushed himself up. Turning, he reached for the shower taps and set them both to full strength. Shucking off his grimy clothes, Stanley all but threw himself into the water as his glamour slipped.

A long, powerful red tail bashed painfully against the filthy shower wall, his tailfin curling to accommodate the lack of space. His earfins lay flat against his head as Stanley slumped down, letting the lukewarm water spray onto him. His gills fluttered, relieved that he was finally allowing them to be out. Carding his claws through his greasy hair, Stanley let the shower water soothe his aching body as he tried to come to terms with what he'd just learned.

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Stanley hadn't expected to find himself standing outside his older brother's house in the early hours of the morning under these circumstances.

Well, to be honest, he hadn't ever pictured himself standing outside Sherman's house at all. The two of them had never been close, and Stanley had only ever seen him a few times throughout his life. Shermie had been in the war, and he'd come back different, more distant and reserved, but even before then he'd never been around much. He and Pa just... never seemed to get along. The last time Stanley had seen him was at at his wedding years ago.

'Well, at least it wasn't just me he didn't like.' Stanley thought, before taking a deep breath and turning the door handle.

Shermie's house was almost picturesque. It was a little townhouse, light yellow in color with white shutters and a matching white picket fence. A garden was growing well in the front yard, and Stanley could see a few little decorative animals sprinkled here and there. It was soft and cutesy; the exact kind of place where no one thought anything bad could ever happen.

Ironically, places like that often ended up being the backdrop of the most horrific crimes possible.

The interior of the house was pleasant enough to look at, but there was a strange air of wrongness that put Stanley on edge. There was something inherently chilling standing in a place that had once held life, and now lay empty.

Brushing off the feeling, Stanley made his way inside, kicking off his boots and setting off down the hall. He looked over the various pictures on the wall; all featuring Shermie and his wife, Sally. Stanley hardly knew her, but she'd seemed like a nice gal when he met her at her and Sherms' wedding, and his brother clearly adored her, what with how he'd looked at her that day like she hung all the stars in the sky.

Seeing their smiling faces laid out before him just made the knife of misery and grief twist deeper. They were a young, happy couple. His brother was a good man, and he'd gotten outta Glass Shard with someone who loved him.

Neither of them had deserved this.

Turning away, he noticed a flight of stairs. Figuring that was a good place to start searching for more photos, Stanley made his way upstairs, peering down the hallway that met him at the top. There were two rooms; a bathroom, decorated with all manor of sea creature paraphernalia, and a bedroom.

Stanley pushed open the bedroom door, stepping onto the room's plush, carpeted floor. The room was as charming as the rest of the house, painted a light cream colour and decorated with lavender purple curtains, a king sized bed with a comforter that matched the curtains, a wooden dresser, and a closet in the corner.

'Guess I'll check the dresser first.' Stanley thought to himself, walking over to it. It looked worn, likely purchased second hand, and sported three drawers. Pulling open the top one, he found a bunch of women's clothes and a few socks. Not wanting to mess with Sally's things, he shut the drawer and moved onto the next one.

This drawer looked like it belonged to Sherman. Stanley gently moved some of his brother's clothes around, but there was nothing else to find. Sighing, Stanley shut the drawer and crouched down to open the final one.

This drawer was far more bare than the other two. There were no clothes inside, only a few small, soft blankets and, perplexingly, baby toys.

Stanley stared at the contents of the dresser drawer, confused. He plucked one of the toys from the drawer, a blue teddy bear, and sniffed at it. He could pick up the mildly familiar scent of Sherman, the chemical-laden scent of vanilla perfume, and...

Stanley sniffed the toy again, not sure if he was really smelling what he thought he was, or if it was just his imagination.

The scent of milk hit his nose, sweet and rich.

Stanley froze, alarms bells suddenly screaming in his head. He stood up as fast as he could, ignoring the swooping rush of dizziness that washed over him, and began to scent the air, praying that his brother was just holding onto the toys for a friend or something.

Now that he was looking for it, however, the milk scent was everywhere. It permeated the air in the same way that Shermie and Sally's scents still did, fading but noticable. There had been a pup here.

Shermie didn't have a pup.

...did he?

Stanley ran a hand through his hair, pulling at it slightly. Sure, Shermie and Pa didn't get along at all, but surely, surely he would have let him know if he had a fucking kid, for Ma's sake at least. Right?

Right?

'You wouldn't.' a quiet, vicious little voice hissed, 'You wouldn't say a damn thing, because that would mean facing Pa again. Who's to say Shermie just didn't want to deal with him yet?'

But if that was true, if Stanley wasn't just finally going crazy from loneliness...

...then where was the pup?

Panic began to build in Stanley's chest. Sherman would have hidden his pup, just in case they had an unexpected visitor, but that meant that no one knew that they were even here. How long had they been alone? How long had they gone without food?

Stanley sniffed at the air once again, trying to track down where the scent was strongest. He prowled around the room and stopped by the closet door. He yanked it open and ripped all the clothes off their hangers, ducking his head inside. It was dark, but that wasn't a problem to Stanley, and after a few moments he spotted something out of place. There was a small dip in the wall, like there was a door or panel.

Stanley reached for it, and his fingers found a handle. He pulled, and the wall opened, revealing a hidden doorway. He waisted no time, stepping into the short hallway and poking his head into the room that waited at the end.

The room was a small nursery. It was painted a pleasant blue color, and the room was illuminated by the gentle glow of a night light. There was a modified baby pool on the ground, the bottom padded with soft foam. The water, likely once pristine, looked muddied with filth.

And in that pool were two tiny, mewling pups.

A pair of twins, shivering and shaking, barely able to open their eyes, curling around each other for comfort. They had curly brown hair, just a few shades lighter than Stanley's own, and were coated in the pale white spots that all young pups had. One had pink scales and purple-pink fins, while the other had blue scales and orangey-red fins.

Stanley's body moved before his mind did. He crossed the room in record time and scooped the pups up into his arms, shaking as he did so. They were so, so light and so tiny, barely weighing anything as he picked them up. The pups twitched at the sudden sensation, chirping and crying loudly when they realized that someone had finally come back to them. They looked pale and washed out, their scales faded and their little bodies far too thin. Stanley wasn't an expert on pups, but his instincts were screaming at him that this was bad.

'Shit.' Stanley blanched as he realized that he wasn't just "not an expert" on pups, he had no idea how to care for them, 'Shit shit shit SHIT.'

Okay, he couldn't afford to breakdown right now, not while he was holding two pups that were probably starving and definitely needed to be cleaned up.

"Fuck. Okay, food first, then a bath, then... God, I don't know." Stanley murmered to himself, quickly leaving the nursery and heading back out into the bedroom. The bright lighting and open layout of the room made Stanley's hackles raise, and he had to fight the urge to find somewhere dark and defensible to hide himself and the two squirming bodies in his arms away.

The pups needed to eat. He could suffer through his instincts going haywire for a bit. He had long since learned to take his fear and shove it wayyyy down deep within himself.

Oh so carefully, Stanley made his way back down stairs and made a beeline for the kitchen. Shifting the twins so that he was holding both pups in one arm, he set about rummaging through the cupboards in search of formula. That was something pups ate, right? He didn't think that they could chew fish or anything like that yet.

God he hoped Sally didn't breastfeed.

'Fucking score.' Stanley mentally cheered as he spotted a can of the coveted formula tucked in behind various cans. He snatched it up and peered at the instructions for a moment before setting to work.

He awkwardly washed his hands, tore up the kitchen looking for bottles, and put all of his focus into not fucking up making the actual bottles. Once they were ready, he warmed them up a bit under the tap, tested the milk temperature, and eased himself onto Sherman's couch as he gave the twins the formula.

The pups all but snatched the bottles from him, their screeching quieting down into hungry growls as they suckled. Now that he wasn't worried that they would drop dead in his arms from starvation, Stanley took a minute to gather himself and actually look at the pups.

They were definitely twins. If you ignored the color of their scales, they looked the same. Close as they were now, Stanley could tell that the blue scaled twin was a little boy, while the pink scaled one was a little girl. Both of them had pudgy pup fat, but there was far less than there should have been.

"Sweet Moses, you poor things." Stanley croaked, nuzzling the pups, "I'm so sorry. I'm probably the worst person you coulda ended up with. God, I hope I haven't screwed things up somehow."

As he pulled back, he noticed something on the boy's forehead. Stanley brushed his brown locs aside and sucked in a breath.

A perfect recreation of the Big Dipper was on the kid's forehead, a striking birthmark that set him apart from his twin.

An anomaly.

"Heh, I guess it isn't just twins that runs in the family." he laughed wetly, "Man, Sixer would love you, kid."

Holy shit, Ford. He needed to call Ford. His twin needed to be caught up on what had happened.

Stanley felt his stomach flip at the thought, and he blew out a long gust of air. He had tried calling his brother a few times over the years, but he'd always been too chicken shit to actually do it.

Now, though, he couldn't afford to hang up again. He was going to have to man up and actually talk to his brother.

"Fuck." he cursed, slamming his head back against the couch. "I really don't wanna do that."

A quiet sound made him raise his head again, and he saw that the pups had finished their bottles and were now gnawing on the rubber nipples. Stanley sighed and got to his feet, gently pulling the bottles away. He didn't want to talk to Ford, but he had to. His twin deserved to know what had happened, and these pups deserved a guardian that wasn't a total fuck up.

But first, he was going to give these kids a bath. Bath first, dealing with deep personal problems later.

[impyssadobsessions]

DPxDC Ficlet/Snippet Pen Pals

I had to write it out a bit XD My head still swarming with the idea. >w<

Damian made it to his room. Part of him wanting to collapse on his bed and sleep in, despite how childish that seemed. Another part eyed the envelope Alfred had left on his nightstand. He had almost forgotten about his Pen Pal. Daniel Fenton. Damian snorted, despite neither one of them giving out their real names, Daniel wasn't hard to find. Last year as a safety protocol, he had located the recipient of his letters and found out everything he could. A boy his age, fourteen now-thirteen then, with physical features that would mistake him for his brother. His siblings teased he had found his own sibling this time, which was not the case! Daniel had a family, two researchers of the paranormal and an older sister. Besides his parents strange profession, Daniel was an average teenager. One, Damian would think would bore or infuriate him- he did infuriate him actually, but instead he was interesting to talk to. Most of their letters were nothing more than small talk. They share their aggravation of their older siblings. Apparently, his older sister was very nagging as he put it. However, when Damian discretely mentioned his own, Daniel did suggest quite a successful prank to pull on them. Other letters, were more helpful and meaningful. Being miles and states away, the average boy was able to call Damian out without a qualm and give comfort without being asked. Only after talking with Daniel, did Damian ever wonder what it would be like to grow up in an average home. Damian grabbed the letter from the bedside table, opening it up. He could at least look at it before bed, and think of a reply tomorrow. He would never admit, but he had missed writing to his Pen Pal. Daniel mentioned struggling in school last he heard from him. Which was odd, as his grades were above average before. Maybe he should check into his school, again. It wouldn't hurt to update his profile- Damian's eyes widened once he unfurled the sticky letter from itself. The paper was filled with his friend's penmanship, blurred and feather from being exposed to moisture. However, that is not what made Damian hold his breath. It was the glowing green stain smeared across the page over Danny's signature. It couldn't be. Why would... Inspecting closer, Damian saw blood like material in the green. It was red, as if the green substance was keeping it fresh. Like... Damian furrowed his brows and ran out the room with letter in hand. He was going to get to the bottom of this. He was going to find out what happened to Daniel James Fenton.

[baddest-batchers]

Not So Secret

Tag warnings: MDNI (younglings begone), slightly suggestive, small hint at intimacy, very passionate kissing, confident/soft Tech, overall fluffy sweetness

This is a little prequel ficlet to “More Than Life” I debated posting this because I just wasn’t happy with how it was unfolding so I’ve rewritten it a few times and am finally ready to share it!

Just for a little backstory, Jayla is my Jedi OC. She’s newly knighted and she’s been assigned to Clone Force 99 as their semi permanent Jedi general. Big surprise she is head over heels in love with Tech.

I hope y’all enjoy!

Taglist: @techwrecker

Needy, desperate, unabashed wanting.

Those four words were the only way to describe the hot, open mouth kisses Tech was placing down Jayla's neck. Her soft whimpering at his increasingly wanting touch was only fueling the fire that burned low in Tech's core.

The pair found themselves taking every chance to express their affection in increasingly heated ways whenever the rest of the Batch had vacated the Marauder. This precious time that they would get alone was always seemingly too short and they found themselves having to quickly disentangle themselves from each other before Hunter, Crosshair, Wrecker, and Echo would return.

"Tech!" Jayla's voice came out breathy and hot against his ear. "They're coming—Tech, my love, we have to—“

"Yes, I know. I can hear the unmistakable sound of Wrecker's footsteps." Tech said into the soft spot between her neck and shoulder.

He pulled back slightly to take a longing look into her face, still flushed from his kisses and eyes filled with desire.

“We will have tell them sooner rather than later, mesh’la.” Tech said in a lowered voice. The sound alerting whomever was occupying the cockpit that the main hatch had been opened sounded.

A disappointing sigh escaped Jayla’s lips as she glanced at the Marauder’s blinking console, “Sooner would probably be better, wouldn’t it?” She said while returning her gaze to Tech’s handsome face.

His goggles had become slightly askew amidst their passionate kisses. Jayla reached with both hands that had previously been resting on his chest plate to fix them back to their proper position on his face. Tech did not let her go as she did so and looked at her with a soft gaze through his now corrected goggles.

“Ah, thank you, cyare.” Tech said in a low voice. Before Jayla could fully retract her one hand, he gently brought her fingers to his lips, pressing featherlight kisses to them. The redness that had begun to dissipate from Jayla’s cheeks suddenly returned as Tech continued to trail tender kisses slowly down to her wrist.

“My love…” She began in gentle protest, knowing the rest of his squad would appear at any moment. Tech’s eyes remained locked with hers as he continued to trail kisses almost to the end of her forearm. His gaze wandered over her soft festures as he relinquished her arm from his grasp. Jayla wrapped both her arms around Tech’s middle and pulled him in a bit closer.

Both of them exchanged soft smiles as they stood enveloped in each other’s arms. After a moment Tech spoke again, “Sooner would most likely yield better reactions, especially from Hunter.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind Jaya’s ear before resting his hand on her waist again.

A beat of silence fell between them and nothing but the hum of the ship’s standby systems could be heard in the cockpit until Jayla sighed a bit heavily as her head came to rest against Tech’s chest plate.

“What is it, mesh’la?” Tech took notice of the slight tenseness that had settled in her shoulders as she tightened her arms around his middle.

“Do you think Hunter would report me to the Jedi Council if we tell him about us?” She said as she lifted her head to look up at him.

Tech considered her question for a moment, his amber brown eyes taking in the concern that had appeared between her brows.

“I do not believe Hunter would do such a thing, as it has become clear that other Jedi have conducted romantic relationships with regs and the like throughout out several battalions.” He placed a soft kiss between her brows to smooth the crease that had formed there.

Tech was not wrong, he seldom ever was, and he had discovered after some digging around on a few anonymous holonet forums that romantic relationships amongst Jedi generals and clones were becoming more common as the war dragged on.

In the end, Tech gathered that while romantic relationships between superiors and subordinates, let alone the Jedi and anyone for that matter, were expressly prohibited by the GAR regulations, following the rules had never been his nor his brothers’ forte. Besides, Tech thought to himself, when had they ever followed orders?

“If you would prefer it, I will talk to him about our, ehm,” He cleared his throat shyly while his face flushed ever so slightly, “relationship.” The unexpectedly pleasant situation Tech had found himself in with Jayla was still so new to him. He never expected to fall in love, being that he was born and bred to be a soldier and nothing more. But she had shown him that he could be more than just a soldier, more than a small part in the war they were all fighting. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Besides, Hunter is more than likely already aware of us, given his enhanced senses.”

A new blush crept up into Jayla’s cheeks as she laid her head down again on Tech’s chest plate. Falling in love was as foreign to her as it was to him and it was something that neither of them expected to happen. Jayla had tried to bury her feelings in the beginning, being that she was a Jedi and attachments are forbidden, blah, blah, blah. But she soon realized, much to her surprise, that what she felt for Tech was so much more than just a simple crush or attraction and denying her feelings was no longer possible.

“He definitely knows. Stars, it’s not like we’ve been trying terribly hard to hide ourselves from your brothers anyway.” She admitted softly against him.

“Yes, well, half heartedly sneaking around them is rather difficult within the confines of the Marauder.” Tech mused as he traced circles through the fabric of her tunic on her back.

Jayla lifted her head from his chest and smiled at him while bringing her arms to wrap around his neck. “I’ve never been good at sneaking around, anyway.”

Her eyes drifted down to his lips as he drew her up into another longing kiss. It took everything inside Tech not to continue kissing her, but his brother’s voices could now be heard on the other side of the cockpit doors.

A loud knock on the cockpit door pulled them from their perfect little bubble, accompanied by Wrecker’s booming voice.

“Hey, are you two done makin’ out in there?? It’s time for our next mission debrief!” Wrecker teased. Tech and Jayla could hear Crosshair snickering and Echo stifling a chuckle at their brother’s loud teasing.

“Oh, Tech, they all definitely know!” Jayla giggled while pulling back from him to cover the grin that had spread across her face.

“Indeed, it would appear that they do.” Tech chuckled. He snaked his arms tighter around Jayla’s waist, “Perhaps, being that my brothers are aware of us and what we are up to, and if you are amenable, we could stay in here until the last possible moment so that I may continue to kiss you.” Tech had lowered his voice so that his brothers, who were undoubtedly attempting to listen through the cockpit door, could not hear his bold suggestion.

“Tech!” Jayla half squealed his name, trying to keep her voice low. Her heart raced at his sudden suggestion and her cheeks flushed pink.

“Yes, cyare?” Tech’s eyes were half lidded behind his goggles now and his voice barely above a whisper.

Jayla half heartedly tried to say something to the effect that they shouldn’t keep the others waiting but she couldn’t seem to get the words out. She was too lost in his soft brown eyes to try and protest again. Her eyes drifted down to his lips then back up to his eyes as she lifted herself up to her tiptoes to meet him as he closed what little space remained between them.

Another loud knock resonated around the cockpit. “Yes, Wrecker, we are coming,” Tech broke their kiss just long enough to say.

“Alright, you two, you both can suck face later. We have a mission to get to.” Hunter’s voice caused Jayla to bring both her hands to cover her face in shy embarrassment while her eyes flitted back and forth between Tech’s.

“Kriff, there’s no hiding from them now, is there?” Jayla giggled as Tech reluctantly released her form from his grasp.

The corners of Tech’s mouth pulled into an amused smile, “I am inclined to agree with you.”

He took her hand into his own as they walked the few steps to the cockpit door.

“Shall we, cyare?” Tech asked, clear affection radiating in his tone while his other hand hovered over the door panel.

Jayla nodded up at him with a soft smile on her face before dropped her gaze down to their intertwined hands. Giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, she brought herself up onto her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“There’s no turning back now.” She smiled up at him, his eyes reflecting back the confidence and kindness she had come to admire so much.

Tech’s eyes roved over her soft features once more, spending a lingering moment on her delicate lips. An almost mischievous smile tugged at his mouth as he leaned down to meet her.

Before Jayla knew it, Tech was mere inches from her face, the look in his eyes was as suggestive as it had been before they were interrupted by his brothers.

“One last kiss, since it will be several rotations before we are alone again.” Tech whispered before bringing his free hand to cup her cheek, pulling her into a deep, wanting kiss.

•••

[ask-sister-solaris]

“Wait me?”

Ray Stantz X reader ficlet

Warnings; none just toof rotting floof

————————

You had an extensive education. Psychology, science (physics, biology and chemistry) aswell as some more ‘niche’ studies including neuroscience and parapsychology. You had quite a deep understanding of the paranormal and occult, seeing it as nothing but a hobby, but when the Ghostbusters come around you realize you could actually make use of your PhDs and knowledge.

You stood infront of the tall and rundown building looking back at the paper. Yup this was the place, old Fire station. You peeked in before stepping in and going over to the reception desk. A dark red haired female looked up at you and she gave you a confused look before you explained why you were there

“I’m here about a job..I believe I can be of assistance to the Ghostbusters, I have proof of my PhDs and exam results..”

She hummed and turned around yelling for someone a man, no taller than you, pelted out of his office and vaulted over the border between the back room and reception. You recognized him as Peter Venkman. You’d never met him personally but you’d heard from students he’d had.

“Well hello, how can I help?” Peter gave you that signature smile and you rose a brow, how did women actually fall for him..shaking your head gently you held out the envelope containing all your certificates

“I’d like a job” your voice was surprisingly firm despite how shaky you felt. Peter looked it over and hummed impressed before smiling holding a hand out toward you. “Welcome to the Ghostbusters, follow me and Dr Stantz can get you all situated” you nodded and followed him as they reached some sort of garage. A pretty beaten up car was sat with the bonnet up and it looked as if someone was working on it, a small radio blasted out rock music, Peter turned the radio off.

“Ray! We have a new recruit walk them through the proton packs and stuff will you” he walked off before the poor man could answer. You gave him an awkward smile and wave. Ray wiped his hands and held it out, which you shook with a smile.

“Ray Stantz, I’ll try to explain the whole proton pack thing but we haven’t even had a test run of them yet” he rubbed the back of his neck. You chuckled and smiled gently waving it off “It’s fine Dr Stantz honestly, I’m just happy Dr Venkman took me on..”

He smiled gently “please call me Ray” he led you to the storage room where the suits and packs were kept. He explained it briefly, it peaked your interested quite a bit and you took in every word he said. You’d always been the same, attentive, friendly and hardworking.

It didn’t take long for you and your fellow ghostbusters to actually gain popularity, after the hotel everything seemed to be smooth sailing. Most of your time was spent in the lab with Egon and Ray, or in the garage with Ray. Venkman usually left you two alone in the garage teasing he didn’t want to interrupt two lovers bonding. You found it funny that he’d say that, considering you’d had a massive crush on Rag since day one, and little did you know that Ray felt the same.

Time seemed to fly by, you, Ray and Egons researched revealed more about Dana’s apartment and you and Ray spent even more time than you had previously. You had to confess but you were so scared. And she panicked when she was called and found out Ray and the others had been jailed. She rushed to the police station and told them you were also a Ghostbuster and if they were jailed you should be to.

Admittedly Ray found that downright attractive that you’d put yourself up there proudly claiming you were a Ghostbuster. Shortly after you were called in to the Mayors office. You stayed silent while the madman that had turned the grid off ranged (Egon had filled you in) and you hummed “Hold on. If what you’re saying is correct then it’s your fault, you turned off the grid releasing all the spirits and ghouls onto New York. And not to mention you blatantly ignored Dr Venkman”

The other four looked at you surprised and you turned to the Mayor “Now id listened to my colleagues before the whole of New York is destroyed and plunged into darkness” you stepped back and stood beside Ray his eyes never leaving you. God his heart was pounding even faster for you. Once the Mayor finally agreed offered a lending hand all five of them set off in the Ecto 1.

Fighting Gozer wasn’t easy, nor was it fun. Venkman taunting said cursed spirit. After Ray accidentally summoned a huge Stay Puft you stood beside him and fought bravely. With Stay Puft defeated and the gate closed you stood up with a groan covered in Mallow fluff. You were hugged by an equally covered Rays and you both laughed. After the two entrapped by the Keymaster and Gatekeeper you and the others headed down. You were holding Rays hand and he looked at you as people cheered.

What happened next you didn’t expect to happen at all, Ray tilted your hand up and kissed you gently. Your eyes widened before you melted into the kiss as everyone cheered, you swore you heard Venkman yell at Egon about owing him.

[lavendarniko]

Vash the Stampede x Short! Reader

A/N: Sorry y’all for the extra long hiatus. I hit a creative block, a lot had happened in my life, and I seem to shut down in the winter- like my brain is hibernating. So to get myself back in I decided to add more to this little ficlet I sent to @anyasathenaeum (an amazing author c: ) Also requests are open (please I’m running out of ideas)

You shiver in the cold of the desert night, your coat having been shot to shreds in one of Vash’s rare moments of having a plan. You hug yourself as you walk beside Vash. Look at him in his warm coat and pleasant smile. You huff a little, kicking at the sand as you shiver once again. Once more you glare at Vash, look at him so warm and comfy in his coat. He could have totally used his coat, but no it just had to be yours. You find yourself crossing your arms to protect yourself from the chilly night.

“Do… you want my coat?”, Vash smirks, the amusement so clear in his voice.

Hmph! You turn your nose up at the man being impossibly bratty. You start to take a step ahead of him, only for you to be enveloped in red and warmth. You find yourself instinctively putting it on. It engulfs you completely, the red jacket sleeves ending well past your fingertips and pools around your feet. You look up at Vash for the first time that day since he got your jacket shot to rags.

“(Y/N)”, he laughs, “I- I think it’s too big for you”

“You think so?”, you deadpan back, having to roll up the sleeve. “You fucking mammoth”

“Are you gonna need any help?”

“No.” You huff as you start walking, only for you to immediately trip over the front of the coat. Vash grabs the back, accidentally choking you in the process.

Vash flashes an amused smile, “I think for the safety of my jacket, I should pick you up”

“Wait a minute!” You start, only for Vash to pick you up anyways, sitting you on his shoulders.

“There you go! All safe and warm”, he grins.

You give an annoyed groan, burying your face in his hair. “It’s not my fault you’re a giant! Who put you in the stretch machine, Laffy Taffy man?”

He just laughs back, patting your leg as he continues to carry you. You can’t really be mad or argue with him. He’s right, you are warm now, and you are safe with him at the moment. You bury your face in his coat, it smells floral and spicy like roses and cloves. You close your eyes, relaxing into the sway of his steps, the warmth of his jacket, sounds of the night. You start to doze off and before falling asleep, you just hear him chuckle.

[lorefulevil]

an absolute joke of a ficlet for @treebarkweek day 4: infernal/divine

"Oh," said Ren. He looked sideways at False, edging behind her sword-arm. "That's not Gargalac."

False frowned. "Are you sure?"

The fire crackled. Inside the flaming circle, the smoke had writhed into a vaguely humanoid shape with arms and legs and glowing cinder-eyes, but none of the extra accoutrements—like fangs and claws—that demons liked to sport. "Why," roared the shape, "have you awakened me from my slumber?"

"Yeah," said Ren. "This one doesn't look dangerous."

"True," said False. She sheathed her sword.

"How dare you," boomed the smoke-figure. Belatedly, it sprouted horns and an attempt at wings. They looked kind of like craft paper cutouts. "I am the great imp Gargamel, and I am very deadly."

"Yeah, sorry, wrong number," said False. "He wanted Gargalac, his classmate from demon school."

"Oh, him." The figure rolled its bright red eyes. It grew a triangle-tipped tail, and lashed that in disgust. "That pathetic excuse for a demon. Failed all his soul-stealing exams, didn't he? Owes me money too."

"I hear he's doing mouthwash commercials now," Ren supplied.

The figure wheezed a laugh that sent plumes of dark mist billowing across the room. "What did you want him for? Anything he can do, I can do better."

"He needed a date for demon prom," said False, before Ren could respond. "Right, Ren?"

"I," Ren began. "I mean, yeah, but—"

The glowing eyes lit up brighter than ever. "I'd be flattered," proclaimed the imp. "Say no more!"

It reached out one smoky tendril, seized Ren's hand, and yanked him into the burning circle. Enveloped in heat and flame, Ren saw clearly the shape of a man with floppy blond hair and the most diabolical grin he'd ever seen. A lot better-looking than Gargalac, for sure. He couldn't help but smile back, even though—"Uh, Falsie? I don't have bus money for prom."

"I'll hire a chariot," False said, already backing out of the room. "Have fun!"

[lupeloto]

"say it again" ficlet

i got an anon message about how ian is a "say it again" after mickey says i love you type of person and i agree! unfortunately, for some reason whenever i respond to a message a draft it, it goes away so shoutout to that person and if youre reading this, let me know! anyways here's ian try and failing miserably at making pizza and mickey giving him shit for it

..........................................................................................

A tattered red dish towel, littered with cigarette burns and mystery stains, rests on Ian’s shoulder as he focuses intently on intricately laying the pepperonis across the dough. The kitchen is in shambles, shredded mozzarella and yeast painting the counter tops. A warmth accompanies the scene, reminding him of the early mornings and later nights spent with his siblings and one too many pools of pancake batter littering the counter. He follows suit with splattered pizza sauce splattered across his shirt and face, blending with the pattern of freckles decorating his pale skin.

“Jesus Christ, Ian,” Mickey enters with a box of Old Styles and a pack of Marlboro Reds. Ian meets Mickey’s gaze like a deer in headlights. “What’re you doin?” Mickey takes in the state of the kitchen.

“Well,” Ian whips the towel off his shoulder, “I figured we could try somethin’ new. We always have fucking pizza rolls so I thought i’d try to actually make the real thing.” 

“Aint that what take-outs for?” Mickey picks up items on the counter to inspect, “The fuck is yeast?” He examines the yellow packet with uncertainty. 

Ian leans against the counter with a sigh, “It’s not really working out.”

Mickey catches sight of the defeat in those soft green eyes and immediately starts damage control. “Nah, man. It looks good, I’m starvin’” he smells the air and attempts not to gag. How the hell did he screw up pizza so bad? 

“Fuck off," he stifles a laugh.

Mickey cuts him off, “Ay,” he grabs the tattered towel, “Ya missed a spot.” He manages to find the one spot not covered in red sauce and mozzarella cheese, rubbing lightly across Ian’s now flushed-pink cheeks to scrub off the remainder of tonight’s dinner. Ian’s face scrunches slightly at the contact. 

“Cmon, let’s get this shit cooked I’m fuckin starvin,” Mickey turns towards the counter.

Ian lingers for a moment, staring at Mickey with full knowledge that his concoction smells like shit and almost certainly tastes like it too. He leans close to Mickey’s ear, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Mickey grins, "Now come on." He takes Ian’s face in one hand, the other on his waist, as their lips lock and everything else disappears for just a moment.

Ian’s arm is resting on the counter, his triceps sharp and prominent and staring directly at Mickey, tempting him. He looks down, yanking Mickey closer by the waist, his hands enveloping it entirely, “Say it again.” He wears a smug grin.

“Don't push it, Gallagher.”

"Cmon, just need to make sure I heard you right," he tilts his head amorously.

"Oh, s'that right?" Mickey leans in, a small chuckles escaping his lips, "I fucking love you." Ian beams as Mickey dips his hand in a puddle of the sauce that resides on the counter, smearing it across Ian's face with a grin.

As the shock subsides, Ian hesitates for a moment before grabbing Mickey’s face and smashing their lips together. Mickey surrenders to the kiss, the sauce now coating his mouth and dripping down his chin. 

They both pull back, licking their lips with a sour expression.

“You make this?” 

“Yeah,” Ian says with the same bitter expression, hesitating momentarily, “Pizza rolls?”

“Fuck yeah.”

The two spend the remainder of the night sprawled across the couch, Ian’s legs resting in Mickey’s lap as they drift to sleep, two platters of pizza rolls and a full six-pack into the night. Mickey suggests that they give pizza sauce a go, giving a rest to the chocolate sauce and whipped cream that typically coats their bodies... and occasionally their sheets. He questions a few times how Ian could possibly mess up pizza so badly. Ian responds with a middle finger and a "fuck off" every time. The two eventually drift to sleep, Mickey now laying beside Ian, practically drooling on his bare chest, hands intertwined as the glare from the TV illuminates their faces in the nightfall.

[late-to-the-party-81]

When Peter parker's famous boyfriend tony stark returns from a two weeks mission or business trip, he decides to treat him. smut please. Buttom power! peter riding tony

What a boy wants

AN: Well here’s a smutty little ficlet for you. I’ve decided this is set in my 'A place on earth' universe, because why not? As always, aged up Peter Parker.

Not beta’d, so sorry for any rogue commas.

Master list | Series Master list

Summary: If you’d asked Tony yesterday which one of them was ‘in charge’ he would have said it was him, but at this moment he was starting to reconsider that assumption. Peter was fully at the wheel this time and Tony was definitely only along for the ride, something he was getting more comfortable with second by second.

Relationship: Peter Parker x Tony Stark.

Word Count: 1.3k

CW: Explicit Sexual Content, implied use of sex toys, anal sex, cock riding, power bottom!Peter, Nipple clamps, Cream Pie, Clothing disparity.

“Tony!”

Tony had barely stepped out of his suit before the slim, but muscular body of his boyfriend barrelled into him.

“I missed you,” Peter mumbled into his chest.

Tony wrapped his arms around Peter’s frame and rested his cheek on the top of Peter’s dark curls. “Missed you too, baby boy.”

Peter tilted his head and Tony raised his own so he could look down at his angel. “Not as much as I missed you,” came the emphatic reply. Peter’s eyes were deep pools of raw emotion and Tony was so hypnotised by them it took him a moment to realise two things. One, Peter was steering him backwards, a fact that he was only really aware of when the back of his legs hit the couch and he tumbled down onto it. Two, Peter was wearing his short silk robe and only that.

Tony landed on the couch with a soft oomph and immediately Peter was climbing up onto him, straddling his thighs and using his nimble fingers to work at Tony’s fly with a determination bordering on obsessive.

“Hey, baby. Slow down. What’s the rush?” He tried to sit up, but halted when Peter looked at him, one eyebrow raised. 

“Anthony Edward Stark. You’ve been gone for two whole weeks. Since we got together the longest I’ve gone without you filling me up is forty-eight hours.” Peter glanced down as he freed Tony’s cock and licked his lower lip. “I ache for you Mr. Stark.”

Tony’s eyes rolled back as Peter let out the honorific and he started to pump Tony’s cock which didn’t seem to have an issue with getting with the programme, despite the fact that a part of his brain thought Peter was a little shit for pulling out the big guns to get his way.

However, Tony would admit that the way that Peter was so unashamedly going after what he wanted was doing something to him. If you’d asked him yesterday which one of them was ‘in charge’ he would have said it was him, but at this moment he was starting to reconsider that assumption. Peter was fully at the wheel this time and Tony was definitely only along for the ride, something he was getting more comfortable with second by second.

Having brought Tony to full hardness at record speed, Peter let him go and threw off his robe. He was, as Tony had thought, naked underneath, except for a pair of gold and red clamps joined by a chain, which made his small nipples puff up as they squeezed them. Tony couldn’t help but skim his palms up Peter’s sides and then rub his thumbs over the two stiff peaks, watching his lover shudder with sensation, before he stared down at Peter’s straining and dripping cock.

“Petey,” he sighed, full of lust, love and amazement for his boy. Peter leant forward and pressed his lips to Tony’s and Tony lost himself in the sweetness of the kiss, not even registering that Peter had taken hold of his cock again until he felt it being enveloped by a warm wet heat. He jerked in surprise and opened his eyes as Peter groaned and fully seated himself, his eyes still closed.

“Holy shit, Peter. Are you okay?” Tony felt panic and then confusion rise within him. They hadn’t done any prep and there wasn’t any lube in this room, but Peter didn’t feel dry and overly tight - quite the opposite - and Peter wasn’t crying out in pain either. In fact he looked entirely blissed out.

Peter smiled and gently rocked atop Tony’s cock.. “So okay, Mr Stark. Friday told me when you set off for home, so I opened myself up and got myself ready. I’ve been slowly fucking myself with that dildo you bought me for the last thirty minutes. Made my little boy-pussy all wet and slippery, so I could take you in straight away. Almost came so many times, but I’ve been saving it. I needed to feel you inside me.”

Peter lifted himself up and started to fuck himself, and all Tony could do was look up in awe, desperately trying to burn each erotic movement onto his retinas. Peter was resplendent -so self-assured - as he just took his pleasure from Tony’s body. He let out little sighs and moans as he moved up and down and stirred his hips.

“Feels so good, Mr Stark. Love the way you fill me up.”

“Fuck, baby. Where did this dirty mouth come from?” Tony asked, still not fully believing that his sweet boy was being so commanding.

“Been dreaming about you ‘n’ decided I wanted to be selfish when you got back. Just want you to lie there and let me have this. You can take it can’t you, Mr Stark? Just let me ride you and ride you until I want to come?”

All Tony could let out was a garbled moan before he bit his lip, tightening his hands on Peter’s hips as he willed his orgasm to build slower. He wanted to make Peter happy. He always tried to let his boy finish first, but this time it felt even more important that he succeed. He thought that closing his eyes again might help, so he wouldn’t be able to see the erotic  juxtaposition of a naked Peter wantonly riding his own clothed body, but it just made everything worse. All his other sensations were suddenly amplified. Peter’s breathy sighs and the salacious, wet, slapping sound of him taking Tony over and over filled his ears. The exquisite push, pull and squeeze on his cock was the only thing he could feel. It was getting too much.

“Peter,” he whined. “Please. I’m so close.” 

“I’m almost there too, Mr Stark,” Peter replied between pants. “Pull on the chain.”

Tony fluttered his eyes open again, trying to focus on the delicate gold links swaying between Peter’s small but defined pecs. He reached out, snagging the chain between the thumb and first two fingers of his right hand, and gave it a cautious tug. Peter let out a deep moan and his body clenched down, making Tony choke back a cough.

“Again,” Peter commanded. “Harder. And when I come I want you to fuck up into me as hard as you can.”

Tony nodded dumbly and then pulled on the chain again, slowly drawing it back towards him and watching how Peter’s nipples lengthened, until his concentration was broken by Peter’s loud shout and the feeling of Peter’s channel starting to spasm as his orgasm took hold. With Peter’s cum splashing all over his shirt, Tony let go of the chain so he could grip Peter’s hips firmly, plant his feet, and start to thrust up. 

Tony started to come almost immediately. He felt the way his balls drew up and the way his cock swelled inside the tight clutch of Peter’s body. His own cry of pleasure mingled with Peter’s as he rode out a wave that felt never-ending, pouring himself inside of his lover. 

Peter collapsed over him, and Tony shifted his hands so he could stroke Peter’s hair with one hand and his back with the other.

“Damn, Petey,” he gasped out. “That was… Wow!”

Peter lifted his head and opened one eye, looking up at Tony. “You liked?”

Tony dropped a kiss onto Peter’s smooth, unwrinkled forehead. “I loved,” he confirmed.

“Does that mean I can be bossy more often,” Peter asked with a smile.

“Baby boy, you can be as bossy as you like, as often as you like, if that's what comes from it. But for now, I’m gonna lay down the law and say that we need to go and have a shower. I also need to burn this shirt - I don’t think it’s salvageable.”

Peter giggled, his voice bell-like. “It’s a good job you can afford to buy more, because I have a feeling a few others might get ruined.”

“Bring it on, baby. Bring it on.”

Tag list: @doasyoudesireandlive, @endlesstwanted, @marvelstarker-mha98, @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989

Join my tag list here

[typicalopposite]

BECZ!! happy friday luv!

so ficlet friday prompt for ya: Salted popcorn for bucktommy

and well 2 can play the i want 2 game so how about

Hot chocolate with cream & marshmallows for firstprince

luv ya 💚💚💚💚💚

i'll take either really i couldn't decide so put them both lolz

*in Rafiki’s voice* It is done!

Melz! It got away from me! But for you!! I present:

Alex brushes the new fallen snow off the steps of the brownstone and sits down. The snow cuts through his gloves reaching the skin and freezing his hands. The wind chill has his nose frozen and red; it will be running soon. Snowflakes land in his lap, in his curls poking out from his toboggan, on his lashes. He brushes them all away.

He should probably go on inside; Henry wouldn’t mind. But there is something so homey, and domestic, and free in the way Henry stops to chat with their neighbor. Alex can’t help but to stay and stare. Every few minutes Henry looks from the neighbor to Alex and smiles, and Alex can’t believe this is really the life he gets to live.

The neighbor is going on and on about something, and Henry is listening with that intense look he gets when he is super focused; and David is doing laps around Henry’s legs. If he’s not careful, he’s going to topple over 101 Dalmation’s style on their poor neighbor. “Love,” he eventually says. “Would you mind–”

“I got him,” Alex laughs. He pushes off the steps and walks towards where Henry and David are standing with their neighbor on the sidewalk.

The neighbor is busy writing something on the ripped off flap of an envelope when Alex reaches them. “There you go!” She says with a bright smile. “You are going to love it! It’ll warm you both right up!” Then she is telling them goodbye and returning to her own brownstone.

Inside Alex unhooks David – who flees to his warm bed to curl up in it – and goes to turn the fireplace on. Henry parted from him in the hall and went instead to the kitchen; Alex hears cabinets opening and closing, and things being put down on the counter. He wonders what recipe the neighbor has given his boyfriend this time.

Once his nose is thawed, and he has regained feeling in his fingers, he makes his way to the kitchen. Leaning against the wall he watches Henry stir something in a saucepan. Two of their large mugs are waiting on the counter; Henry divides what he was stirring into each. He tops them with marshmallows and some cream, adding a sprinkle of cocoa powder to the top (because he’s fancy). “There you are,” he says, handing Alex the cup of hot cocoa.

“Well it smells amazing,” Alex laughs, holding the mug up under his nose and breathing in the rich smell of chocolate. Henry’s eyes are wide and impatient; waiting for Alex to take the first sip. He obliges, swallowing a big sip of the cocoa down, turning his eyes up like he’s trying to decipher the taste. “Mmm… yeah,” he finally says. “Tastes amazing, too.”

Henry sighs. “You are such a menace…” he mumbles and tries it for himself. He smiles at the mug, seemingly satisfied, then leans in to kiss off the remnants of cream from Alex’s lips.

– – –

Tommy definitely hears Evan sigh at Henry and Alex’s kiss… he doesn't say anything, though. Instead he just tightens his arm around Evan’s shoulder, pulling him in more against his body. Tommy loves a good romcom so when Evan asks him to watch the Red White and Royal Blue sequel he’s been talking about all year, he obliges. They started their date night by watching the first one, taking a break after so Evan could go on a little tirade about the movie. (It’s become one of his favorites, he says he’s hyperfixating.) Then they fell back into their spots (practically connected from head to feet — on Evan’s bed to start the second.

Evan suddenly shoots up, grabbing the remote and taking the movie back a few scenes; he pauses the TV, leaning in towards the screen. “What are you doing?” Tommy laughs.

“Trying to make out the ingredients for the recipe she gives him,” Evan says, squinting at the screen (Evan swears to himself it’s only blurry because the recipe is not in focus; Tommy takes the opportunity to tease him that he’s getting old, too). “I bet I have everything… I could make us some!”

“You want hot chocolate?” Evan shrugs, nods. “With salty popcorn?” Tommy shakes their almost empty popcorn bowl; he gets another shrug, another nod. “In the middle of summer?!”

“It’s kind of cold in here,” Evan argues, but just in case he also gives Tommy his pitiful pleading puppy dog eyes. He is not ashamed to admit using them to get his way, every now and then. Tommy sighs deep, and rolls his own eyes.

“Fine,” he groans, then smiles— his ‘you’re lucky you’re adorable’ without saying it. Evan’s face lights up and he jumps up from the bed — grabbing the popcorn bowl with the promise of refilling it for the remainder of the movie— to go dig through his cabinets in search of the ingredients from the recipe.

“Aha,” Tommy hears from downstairs. A “There you are,” and “Found it,” follows, and he can imagine the mess being made in Evan’s hunt.

“Need help?” Tommy calls down to him.

“Nope! Found everything! Be back up in a minute!” Tommy can hear the smile in Evan’s voice and, yeah, that’s worth drinking a hot winter drink on one maybe one of the hottest days of the year so far.

In no time Evan comes bouncing back up the stairs— carefully because he is balancing the bowl of fresh popcorn between the two mugs and his chest. Tommy takes the bowl, before there’s a mess upstairs as well, and one of the mugs. It’s topped with marshmallows and cream just like in the movie, and Tommy takes a sip.

Evan is bouncing on his heels next to him, looking down at him with those same puppy dog eyes, waiting on Tommy’s verdict. “It’s delicious,” he says. “Sweet—” he picks up a few pieces of popcorn and tosses them into his mouth. “And salty… just like you.”

“Hey! When am I ever salty,” Evan pouts.

“I mean you did main your best friend… out of jealousy.”

“Hey— whatever,” Evan rolls his eyes and restarts the movie. He tastes the cocoa for himself and hums, satisfied, sinking down onto the bed, snuggling back up to Tommy’s side. “Told you I could make it!”

“I never doubted you,” Tommy laughs, picking up a handful of popcorn and throwing it at Evan, before leaning in to kiss the remnants of cream off his lips.

There ya go! 💕💕 Hope you like it 😁

[lestatslestits]

Day 2 of TOTA Takeover, dedicated to Francine Boyle, who I find to be one of the most fascinating characters in the show.

Warning: this ficlet contains discussions of self-harm, an injury that appears to be self-inflicted (but isn’t), and mentions of alcoholism.

With all of that said, it’s somehow happier than my Rosalie ficlet.

Eddie finds her before she can clean the blood up. That’s the last thing Francine wants. He’s gone off on an errand and she has less time than anticipated to bandage the wound on her arm before he returns, so the first thing he sees upon opening the door to their shared flat is her crouched on the floor, dripping red.

“Jesus, Francine!” He lets the shopping fall from his grip and only just remembers to close the door behind him before he runs to her, practically crashing to his knees by her side. She expects the hand that grabs her wrist to do so roughly, but he’s gentle with her as he cradles it.

“It was just the cat,” she says, rocking back a bit. “Just the cat, just the cat, just the cat…” she repeats the words until they become a keening chant in time with her rocking.

It had been an accident. She needs him to understand and believe that. She had scared the poor creature and it had scratched a gash in her arm, long but shallow. It’s not as bad as it looks, and she needs him to realize that it wasn’t self-inflicted. He’s just started thinking it’s alright to leave her alone to go to the shops, and he’ll go mad with guilt if he thinks something has happened while he’s been away. Then maybe he’ll drink and that will be Francine’s fault, and they’ll fall together back into the nigh-inescapable spiral they’ve only just dragged themselves out of bit by bit.

Eddie bends his neck down to examine her arm. She doesn’t breathe until he recognizes the wound as a definite cat scratch and sits back on his heels with a sigh of relief. “Right,” he says, his eyes slipping closed. He lets her arm fall gently to her side and envelops her in a hug, even as she tells him his clothes will get stained. “Aye, let them,” he tells her.

Once his breath has evened out he tells her that he needs to get her bandaged up. She would prefer to do the task herself: she’s been handled by enough impatient nurses and aides with rough hands that she instinctively shies away from being patched up by others. But Eddie is gentle, if a little clumsy, and patient even when the wound is long enough to require multiple carefully arranged plasters.

“I scared Irn-Bru,” she says, watching him distantly as he works, “He’ll be angry with me.”

Irn-Bru is their cat, an occasionally skittish former stray which Francine had coaxed into trusting her after many long hours and even more tins of food. Campbell Bain, on one of his frequent visits, had started calling him that on account of his extremely orange coloration, and it had stuck. Francine liked it, Eddie pretended to hate it but didn’t.

“He’ll forgive you, no fear,” Eddie says. He applies the last plaster and then heaves himself up off the floor with a groan. Francine allows herself to be pulled up after him. He ghosts a kiss over her knuckles, then interrupts the moment by swearing and dashing off to put away the frozen goods he’s left sweltering by the door.

Francine watches him and then goes to open a tin of food to draw the cat out of hiding with. He will find his way out soon, she knows. He’s an easily spooked thing that has to be handled with care—and sometimes even that isn’t enough. But he knows, deep down, that he’s safe and loved here. And that’s mostly all any creature needs, she thinks.

[troutfur]

If we’re going with indulgences today and Ravenpaw content.

Prompt: FireRaven + “Sorry I got blood on your nose” “You just took on four cats by yourself and that’s what you’re concerned about?” “Well, I can’t compare to legendary adder killer”

JASPER I'M SO SORRY I TOOK FOREVER ON THIS!

I've owed you this for 2 months and a half, but I just haven't been able to get my groove back writing-wise in so long. Hopefully the calm-wrimo ficlets can help combat that.

(If anyone wants to get a ficlet ~500 words I'm aiming to do one daily for all of November. Please do check my guidelines here but other than that submit as many as you'd like. I still got plenty of spots open.)

Let me offer thee:

It was over as fast as it’d begun. The sudden silence as the raiding party retreated left only a faint lingering ring in Ravenpaw’s ears. Gradually, as the adrenaline coursing through his veins diluted into his bloodstream, it dissipated, letting the sensations of the forest come back to him. The booming beats of his heart were first. Then came his labored breaths. Every spiked hair along his back began to fall into position and his raised hackles began to feel uncomfortable to maintain.

“Sorry I got blood on your nose,” came Firepaw’s mew, from his side.

Ravenpaw startled, only now noticing the red stream that was running down the side of his muzzle. “You just took on four cats by yourself and that’s what you’re concerned about?” he asked. It came a little forceful out his muzzle, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a warm glow rising at his friend’s concern. A feeling that mixed with a certain amount of bafflement.

“Oh that?” Firepaw mewed. “Well, I can’t compare to a legendary adder killer.”

Ravenpaw gave a little gulp at that and tried to act nonchalant by licking off the bloodstain. “...I, well, I suppose...” He spluttered a few more meaningless sounds as he thought of what to say in response. It’d been no big deal, really, just a dumb risk that’d paid off. But for Firepaw to compliment someone so foolish, so reckless, so utterly--

“Here,” Firepaw said with a helpful lick that snapped Ravenpaw back from the realm of his thoughts to the forest. Coming closer, Firepaw fixed his paws around Ravenpaw’s neck and continued washing Ravenpaw’s face.

A purr rumbled in the jett-black apprentice’s throat as he relaxed. Let others around them buzz with worry, taking headcounts of the cats currently present and making plans already for their rebuilt defenses. After the single-minded rush of battle Ravenpaw only wanted to bask in this much more pleasant sensation that enveloped him.

Firepaw gave a chirping mew as he noticed. “There we go!” Firepaw said. “Much more like the Ravenpaw I like.”

A hot sensation spread all across Ravenpaw’s cheeks which he channeled as he began clumsily licking back at Firepaw’s own face.

“Hey! Hey!” Firepaw protested, raising his paws in mock defense as he gave out a giggle. “Ugh, you’re like a dog!”

At that Ravenpaw took offense and gave his friend a light shove backwards. “Hey! Some respect you show the ‘legendary adder killer’!”

The two of them devolved into a playfight right then and there. As they tossed and turned in the dirt the last of the tension of the battle melted straight away. Their swipes turned lazier and their dodges clumsier the more they kept at it until they both collapsed onto their backs giggling messes.

They remained there without much of a concern in them until Tigerclaw’s growl snapped them back into reality. Snapping back into his feet in an instant, Ravenpaw hung his head in shame but before he had any time to lecture his apprentice a booming voice rippled across camp.

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the highrock for a Clan meeting!” Bluestar called.

Suddenly at attention the whole Clan gathered and Ravenpaw looked on to his denmate who bounded off with great enthusiasm to be given his next task with which to serve ThunderClan.

[meggiejolly]

Comfort (Wolfstar fic)

Sumary: Sirius is forced to go home to his family for Christmas and finds one of Remus' jumpers to take with him for comfort.

Wordcount: 876

Tags: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Marauders Era, younger Wolfstar, fluff, pre-relationship

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53384644

This is another little ficlet inspired by a video by p4perback and whataboutpadfoot. In my head this scene takes place when they're still pretty young. Maybe like 3rd year or something.

Snippet:

Sirius looked around the dorm to check if he’d forgotten anything and spotted his favorite of Remus’ jumpers under one of the beds. It was red, brown and possibly green and had a pretty terrible pattern, but it was also soft and brought out Remus’ eyes in a way that Sirius didn't understand. He went to pick it up to put it on Remus’ bed, but something made him lift it up to his nose.  It smelled like Gryffindor, the Marauders and most of all Remus and Sirius decided then and there that he would take it with him. That jumper would feel more like home than his parents’ house ever could. He put it on just to test it out and was instantly enveloped in warmth and comfort. He couldn't help but grin and wrap his arms around himself for a moment. 

[iamthecomet]

If you're taking ficlet requests at the moment, Copia giving Dew a Valentine's card or something similar and Dew is just. "What the fuck IS this?"

Happy Valentines Day! No smut. Just Copia being Copia and Dew being confused.

Copia doesn't say anything when he presses the envelope into Dew's hands. Instead, he just blushes, the tips of his ears going pink as Dew looks down at the envelope in his hands and cocks an eyebrow. The paper is thick, textured. It's a creamy blush color, subtle. The contents are thin there's no weight to it at all. But the way Copia is looking at him feels heavy. There's nervous excitement coming off of him in waves. Dew can smell it, sweet and bitter all at once. Copia moves a hand in a way that seems like he's telling Dew to get on with it.

Dew looks at the envelope and them up at him. Is he missing something? He has no idea why Copia's giving him anything. They do gift exchanges on holidays, of course. And birthdays--well summoning days for Ghouls. Dew has two of them, much to everyone else's chagrin, but neither of them are in February. "What--"

"Just open the card, Dewdrop."

The paper smells like raspberries, roses, pink down to its atoms. It has Dew's name across the front, written in a loopy script that Dew doesn't think is Copia's but how is he supposed to know? It's all very fancy. Dew runs his fingers over the paper, feeling the scratch of it under his thumbs. "Is this a wedding invitation or something? Are you and Mountain finally tying the knot?" Dew jokes. Copia gives him a deadpan glare. "Dewdrop." "Fine," Dew rolls his eyes and turns the envelope over his hands. He slides a pitch dark claw under the flap and breaks the seal. Copia's mouth breaks into a small smile. It makes Dew feel like he's being hunted. He slips the card out of the envelope. The first thing he notices is the sheer amount of silver and pink glitter. It's abrasive under his fingers. It shakes off of the card and onto the floor, onto his skin, onto his clothes. And then he sees it. The whole card is aggressively pink. Covered in glitter hearts. It doesn't open, it's just one single-sided piece of hot-pink cardstock. It says be mine in that same loopy script. Dew scrunches up his nose and tries to rub the glitter off of his fingers. He can't tell if Copia made it or if it came this way, but it doesn't matter, because he doesn't know what the fuck it is. "What the fuck is this?" he asks. "It's Valentine's Day," Copia says cheerfully. He claps his hands together excitedly as Dew looks between him and the card in growing confusion. "It's what?" "Valentine's day," Copia says again as if repeating it is somehow going to be helpful. "You know, cards, gifts, chocolates, romance." Dew cringes, he shakes the card a little and watches a cascade of glitter rain onto the floor. "Uh...thanks?" "Don't tell me you didn't have Valentines day in hell?" Dew's eyes shoot up to his. Is he serious? Really? "Uh, no." "Oh," Copia says and Dew can practically see the bulb going off behind his eyes. "Lupercalia." "What? Is that the sex holiday? Is this how humans tell each other they want to fuck?" Copia goes bright red. "No, no, Caro. Not at all it's just...on Valentine's day you give gifts to people you appreciate, that you care about. I wasn't, I'm not--don't be ridiculous."

Dew tilts his head to the side, looking every bit the confused animal that he is. His tail flicks up behind him. "I don't get it." Aether appears as if on command behind Dew. He claps him on the shoulder. Dew sees glitter on his fingers too. "Just say thank you and walk away," Aether whispers in his ear on his way by. "Thanks, Papa," Dew says, trying to sound genuine. "I appreciate you too. I...guess?" "You're welcome, Dewdrop. Happy Valentine's Day!" Copia grins and strides off, already pulling another rosey envelope out of his pocket and humming as he goes. Dew looks at the card still clutched in his hand. "What the fuck?"

[alwaysbethewest]

Narcos fic: S.W.A.K.

It's my beloved @knittingqueen13's birthday and somehow she can always get me to write fics just by asking nicely. So here's a silly sweet little pre-relationship Narcos OT3 ficlet just for her! But you can read it too if you'd like 😌

Title: S.W.A.K. Pairing: Connie/Steve + Javi (pre-OT3) Rating: Teen Word Count: 550 Content/warnings: schmoop, flirty teasing, romance, valentines, implications of polyamory/threesome (lol), just absolute nonsense of the exact brand you can always expect from me. Unbetaed but thanks to @mourningbirds1 for her help.

Javi’s distracted by lighting his cigarette, so it takes him a minute to notice the envelope sitting square in the middle of his desk. When he finally spots it, he’s not sure how he missed it; the shade of bright fluorescent pink could probably be seen from space, much less from a foot away.

He pokes at it gingerly, using his fingertips to flip it over to examine the back. The flap is sealed, and there’s a red lipstick kiss pressed onto the paper, over the seal.

Javi’s eyes travel around the bullpen, taking in the bevy of female agents and secretaries he’s flirted with over the years, wondering which of his colleagues is trying to spark an office romance. The woman in question has either slipped away or is playing it cool, because nobody meets his gaze with a wink or a smirk or a flirtatious nod. It’s business as usual at everyone else’s desks, leaving his admirer a mystery.

Across from him, Steve is shooting him a smirk from the other side of his own desk. He nods at the pink card. “You gonna open that or what?”

“Did you see who left it?”

Steve chuckles. “I know exactly who left it.”

Javier narrows his eyes in suspicion, but he finally slides a finger under the envelope flap, prying it open.

The card is a store-bought valentine, with a giant, red heart on the front. “Be Mine,” it says. There’s a pen stroke through Mine and above it in neat cursive: Ours.

It takes Javi too long to figure it out, and Steve takes pity on him.

“It’s from Connie,” he tells him. Javier’s eyes snap up to meet his again, and Steve still looks amused, but there’s something quietly serious about his face, a curious tightness around his eyes that Javi hadn’t noticed a moment before.

Inside, she’s written: Come to dinner tonight—let us treat you! XOXO yours, Connie and Steve

He tilts his head, stalling by taking a drag on his smoke.

“Dinner?” he asks.

“She thinks you don’t have enough romance in your life,” Steve explains. His tone is a little strange, like he’s stuck somewhere in the middle between agreeing with her and not.

Javi raises an eyebrow. “I’ve got plenty of romance.”

“Do you?”

Javi is silent. His definition of romance might differ from Connie’s, but he’s still not exactly sure what this is.

“Well I won’t turn down dinner,” he says finally, “but I’m not going to sleep with you.”

Steve grins. “You say that now, but you’ve never been wined and dined by Connie Murphy,” he jokes. “Anything could happen.”

“Probably not that,” Javi insists.

“Listen to yourself, you’ve already downgraded to ‘probably.’ She’s got you good.”

“Ten percent chance,” Javi offers, straight-faced. He tucks the card back in its envelope and tosses it into his desk drawer for safekeeping, as Steve lets out a victorious-sounding laugh. “Fifteen if she brings me flowers.”

The bouquet of irises she hands him match the blue of her sparkling eyes and Javi feels his stomach drop, just a little, as he accepts the gift.

Over her shoulder, Steve meets his eyes with a knowing grin. Twenty, he mouths silently, and Javi thinks—he might still be lowballing.

(mini tag list: @pedrostories, @littlemisspascal, @loversandantiheroes, @pajamasecrets, @lannister-slings-and-arrows, @thirstworldproblemss)