Tumgik
#300 words
dallianceangel · 14 days
Text
𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 🛁🍻
Here’s a triple drabble for you all, I love me some soft Happy😍
🛁 comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated 🛁
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“Missed me, handsome?” you ask Happy, leaning against the doorframe, still in your nurse’s uniform.
“Always,” Happy whispers with a smile, the sight of you in your uniform immediately turning him on.
Closing the door behind you, Happy can barely keep his composure as he watches you slowly strip to your underwear, his eyes darting to the hickeys he left on your breasts a few days ago. Guiding you into the adjoining bathroom, your boyfriend greets you with a desperate kiss.
“Fuck, baby, I’ve missed you.”
You can’t help smiling. “I’ve missed you, so much.”
Rock music starts playing in the distance, a sure sign that another rowdy clubhouse party has just begun. Normally, you’d show your face before retreating to Happy’s dorm a few hours later, but tonight you’re both in no mood to party.
“Lavender or Jasmine?” Happy asks you, holding up two bottles of bubble bath liquid, hoping a bubble bath will help you recover from your difficult shift.
“Jasmine, please.”
While you step outside to grab a bottle of beer from the small fridge in the corner of his room, Happy works on drawing the most romantic bubble bath you have ever seen. Lighting some soy wax candles, dimming the lights, putting on some romantic music, making sure the water is the exact temperature that you like, he’s gone all out for you. “Come on in, darlin’!”
Removing your underwear and grabbing another beer from the fridge, you join your boyfriend in the bathtub, completely in awe of what he’s done for you. “This is perfect, baby, thank you.”
He reaches out to hold your hand. “Think they’ll miss us?”
“They are probably too drunk to notice we’re not there.”
Happy chuckles, clinking his beer bottle against yours, signalling the start of your romantic evening together.
55 notes · View notes
Note
Hi ! Congrats on 300 followers !
Can I request :
Crosshair
Romantic
Fem!reader
sfw
300
Prompt #6 : "I'm here. I've got you. You're safe now."
optional : said by reader to Crosshair after he was rescued from Mount Tantiss (maybe after a nightmare)
Thank you so much and congratulations again ! <3 (And you don't have to do it if you don't want to, it's totally fine)
I Won't Leave You
Crosshair x Fem!Reader
Tumblr media
Pairing: Crosshair x Fem!Reader
Tags & Warnings: nightmare, angst, hurt/comfort
Word Count: 300
Author's Note: CORA, I AM SO SORRY. I got so carried away trying to complete the bingo fics that I let the last three event requests sit idle in my inbox. However, as promised in my New Years post, I have finally completed it!!! Thank you so much for your patience and putting up with me. I hope you still like it 💚
Tumblr media
Crosshair shoots up in his bed, screaming at the top of his lungs as sweat pours down his face. He heaves in his breaths and claws at the duvet to try and find reality, but the images from his nightmare refuse to dissipate from his mind. As he continues to search for safety, he feels a hand grab his arm and he begins to flail wildly, desperately trying to escape his nightmare.
"Easy," you say.
Crosshair tries to remember who the voice belongs to, but the room is dark and his mind is still groggy, so he continues to fight your grip as if you're an attacker.
You turn on the lamp on the bedside table and as his eyes adjust to the brightness, he finally sees who the hand belongs to. It's yours. You're holding his wrist and looking at him with concern in his eyes.
His body trembles as he settles and works to get his breathing under control.
"I'm here," you soothe. "I've got you. You're safe now."
Crosshair swallows hard. "I… I don't know what happened."
"A nightmare?" you ask.
"Yeah," he pants. "A bad one. From my time on Mount Tantiss. They did… things to me."
You suck in a breath. "That place is gone now. They can't hurt you anymore."
"But the memories–"
"Are just memories," you whisper.
"I can't…" he breathes while holding the side of his head. "I can't get rid of them."
"It'll take time," you reassure.
"Time," he says. "The one thing I don't have."
You pull Crosshair into your chest and scoot back against the headboard, wrapping your arms around him.
"You can try to go back to sleep when you're ready," you say. "I won't leave you."
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Thank you."
Tumblr media
Event Masterlist
Masterlist
A03
Tag List: @nahoney22 @commander-sunshine @sunshinesdaydream @padawancat97 @verndusk @sun-roach @coraex @lickylickylicky @homemade-clones @523rdrebel @clonemedickix @starrylothcat @mooncommlink @ladyzirkonia @stunkbiggu @cdblake1565 @ladytano420 @moonlightwarriorqueen @anxiouspineapple99 @clonethirstingisreal @dreamie411 @trixie2023 @cw80831 @ca77m3anna @rinwritesfics @t3mpest98 @novas-daydreaming @twincesskorisoka
Join my taglist HERE
Tip me a tea on Ko-fi HERE
96 notes · View notes
polutrope · 2 months
Text
The music enchants, but it is the minstrel’s silks that enthrall Maglor. Silver-green like starlight meshed in moss, they ripple like water— nay, like thick cream, tempting both eyes and tongue. The cloth loves the one it clothes; lives as though the tiny creatures who spun it sacrificed their spirits in its making. 
It is as soft as cream, too, between Maglor’s fingers. So soft Maglor bares himself first, which he has done for no one since landing on these shores. He bares the scar that loops around his ribs: the mark of a Balrog’s whip. A strange scar, patterned like chainmail, for the metal grew so hot it singed the flesh it was meant to protect. 
Maglor’s skin burns otherwise now. He hungers for luxury. Hungers and takes, lowering the length of himself over the prone body beneath him. 
“Have you no silks in your Blessed Realm?” Daeron’s chuckle is a playful breeze on Maglor’s throat. 
They do, they did — but not like this. Ah, how Maglor wishes he could tell him: they are gone, all his gowns, all his trailing robes and winged shawls. More we shall make: so his father had spoken. But there are no such materials in cold Beleriand – none save these that have come out of the Girdled Kingdom, draped upon the shoulders of a nightborn bard with a voice like rain, like rivers, like the vast dark spaces between stars. 
Maglor’s silks are left behind and lost, but these— but you— “You are here,” Maglor says, nonsequitur. 
Daeron asks no more questions, and that is well, for Maglor can give no answers. He kisses Maglor’s mouth and shrugs out of his silks, and at the touch of skin on skin, warm and supple skin, Maglor’s hunger is at once renewed and sated. It is not his silks, but Daeron for whom he hungers; Daeron who is his luxury, his comfort, his home.
Inspired by @jouissants' Doriath silk monopoly worldbuilding in arrangement for flute and harp
74 notes · View notes
toxicbrothel · 3 months
Note
Tumblr media
POV
300 words. I8+ noncon somnophilia, stalking
Ghostface was following you, and your date was finally ending.  He wasn’t really planning on doing anything tonight. He wanted to let you miss him. . . until he saw you kiss the guy goodnight, and even let him grab your ass? Ghostface couldn’t let that go. He put on his mask, then reached in the glovebox for his emergency switchblade and flicked it open. He almost forgot to put on his gloves. He waited until you were driving off, then practically flew across the parking lot, taking long strides with his robe flowing behind him. 
“Have a good time?” Ghostface asked your date.
Your date dropped his keys and flattened himself with his back against his car, terrified. Ghostface wrapped his hand around the man’s neck and savored the look of fear in his eyes. “Too bad there won’t be a second date,” he taunted before slashing the man’s throat. Ghostface let him slump onto the pavement, then cleaned the blade with his glove and left the man gurgling on the ground as he bled out. 
Now, to deal with you. Ghostface was nothing, if not patient. . . when he wanted to be. And he had something special in mind for you. He waited until you were fast asleep, then let himself into your house. He crept into your bedroom and palmed himself as he watched you sleep. You rolled over, then let out a little sigh, and it made his dick rock-hard. He got onto your bed and pulled the covers off you. He couldn’t help but moan softly when he saw you were naked. Good. You let out an unsatisfied grunt, but didn’t wake up. He pulled his sweatpants down under his balls, and nudged your legs apart. Then he covered your mouth with his gloved hand. You grunted into his glove, and your eyes blinked open. 
“Dreaming of me, princess?”
--------------
thank you for reading! and thank you @milla-frenchy for the compelling pic 💕💕
PSA: this is my only ghostface on this acct, but i do have some on main, most notoriously every inch
87 notes · View notes
rockingrobin69 · 6 months
Text
just works
They play Cranium with Ron and Hermione on Friday, and the little card says Harry has to sculpt Wembley stadium from playdough. For some reason his mind goes to Wimbledon, and he makes what sort of doesn’t look at all like a tennis court: Draco blinks at it, nods, and says, Wembley.
They get the point, and Hermione loses her absolute marbles. “How,” she keeps asking, louder and louder with every glass of wine, “did you both make the same mistake, the opposite way?”
Harry just shrugs. Doesn’t quite know how to explain that they’re both the same kind of weird, but in opposite ways, that they make all the mistakes all the time and still somehow manage to understand each other. Draco’s smile sparkles with mischief, and he keeps coming up with half-arsed theories about mental connection and soul mates and bees and ants that regurgitate knowledge, but it was a total accident, and he knows it too. They’re just like that when they’re together: somehow it works. Hermione doesn’t quite forgive them even when she wins the game for spelling ‘obnoxious’ backwards, but she smiles when Ron shrugs, when he gives her that look.
“That’s Harry and Malfoy for you,” he says, and she laughs and nods, conceding the point (but still sore about the point).
On their way home, Draco leans his head on Harry’s shoulder. “My father used to watch tennis. He hated Andy Murray, but I always suspected it’s because he fancied his arse.”
Harry chokes on surprise-laughter. “Vernon and Dudley watched a lot of footie.” There’s silence for a while.
“I despise football,” Draco says.
“Yeah, tennis is boring.”
They look at each other, not much else to say. Harry’s smiling when he takes his hands, fingers threading together. Yeah, all right. That’s them.
(Flufftober day 18. Find the soft AO3 collection here).
91 notes · View notes
xanthippe74 · 2 years
Text
Drarry microfic: Guilty
content warning: drinking/hangover
Harry is rudely awakened by a folded newspaper swatting his aching head.
“Rude,” he grumbles.
“You go to a Ministry dinner without me one time,” Draco starts in, before Harry can open his eyes, “and this is what happens?”
Harry turns his face into the pillow. “What happened? Erm, exactly? I’m a bit funky on the details. Fuzzy, I mean.”
“According to witnesses,” —there’s a deliberately prolonged rustling of paper near Harry’s left ear— “you convinced the 107-year-old Ambassador to Sweden to play a risqué drinking game with you.”
“She quit after three shots of Firewhisky. What a lightweight. Speaking of drinks, you didn’t happen to bring me some Hangover Potion, did you?”
“I’m not done yet. Then you held up the buffet queue in order to sculpt a tray of mashed potatoes into an anatomically-correct, female mountain troll.”
“I did? Wow, I wish I could remember that.”
“Lucky for you, a photographer from the Prophet captured the moment for posterity.”
“Oh, good. Big tits on the troll?”
“Ridiculously so. And then, Potter…” Draco applies the newspaper to Harry’s arse, this time with more force. “Then you started shouting ‘Right on!’ and ‘Damn straight!’ at random moments during the Minister for Magic’s speech.”
“Heh. I did do that, didn’t I? It was a right snoozefest, that speech. Thought I’d help him out.”
The mattress dips next to Harry’s hip, and he hears Draco sigh. Surrender. Harry wins! He slides one arm out from beneath the duvet and waves it around until a glass vial hits his palm.
“You’re shameless. Don’t you feel even the tiniest bit guilty about ruining an important Ministry function, you menace?”
“Nope,” Harry says blithely after tipping the potion into his mouth. “Maybe this will teach them never to leave my husband off the invitation again.”
Written for the @drarrymicrofic prompt, "guilty."
masterlist of my microfics
160 notes · View notes
punk-in-docs · 2 years
Text
300 WORDS
Tagged by: my beautiful @wayward-rose and I should like to tag @indouloureux & @mypoisonedvine
Rules: Post a snippet of whatever you’re currently working on, no more than 300 words, and tag five other writers.
🥀
|| TW || It’s the next bit of my Prince Paul series. A little filthy, flirty. Mentions of sex. Reader being very mean with a capital M. Dom Reader x Subby!Prince Paul y’all ||
At dinner was when you started. Afterwards during the Opera was when you kept it going.
Sat next to him in the red and gold encrusted box and drove him wild.
You started by tickling your fingertips up his thighs. Over his tight white breeches. Palming his cock over the fabric. Making him close his eyes and whine like a kicked puppy.
You’re a cruel cruel mistress with it. Every time he hummed, or moved, or adjusted, shyly asking for more, with a shove of his hips forwards to your hand, you pulled away.
Diamond bracelets rattling on your wrists. The way you looked so smug. Had his teeth grinding to dust.
Desire spurned with so much love and hatred it could swallow the blazing sun whole. Loathe at first sight and all that-
You watched the stage religiously as the Aria from the Soprano tripped into a stunning high C. Pitching higher and higher as Paul’s hips squirmed to your touch. And then-the horrible awful wretched burn of-
Nothing.
Leaving him to fester in the ache of a punishment. Hand pulled away again.
He had to swallow and bite his knuckles. You could see tears shimmering in his eyes. You wondered if he’d give you orders soon.
Listening to him breathe unevenly, all choppy, staring at the chalky opera scenery and fucking Greek marble plinths and columns on the foggily lit stage, with his cock pressed hard and painful up against the falls of his breeches.
You fan yourself and know he’s watching your hair swirl in the breeze. Your diamonds blazing in the dull light, linked around your neck.
The way they shift up and down with your every breath. Clasping your collarbones and fuck now he’s envious of a bunch of stones for being able to kiss your skin and he cannot?- torture
75 notes · View notes
innmybook · 1 year
Text
~ rings [bkdk]
💍
Katsuki approaches Izuku in silence so as not to startle him.  His boyfriend is reading some comic book, probably the new edition Katsuki bought last week. The young hero is lying on the sofa, comfortable and looking incredibly huggable.
The blonde smiles as he sits on the edge of the sofa. He takes the comic from Izuku's hand, carefully pulling the magazine so as not to tear the pages.
"Hey! Kacchan?!" Izuku complains, furrowing his eyebrows.
He tries to take the magazine back but the blonde throws it onto the table, far enough so that Izuku couldn't reach it without getting up. The green haired one snorts irritably, and Katsuki takes one of his hands, the left one, where the ring Katsuki had given him was, the one of when they started dating.
Katsuki removes the ring, and Izuku's eyes widen.
"Kacchan?!* he sits up on the couch with Katsuki still holding his hand  "Katsuki, what are you doing? Put that ring back!"
The blonde puts the ring in his pants pocket where a red box waits. He takes it, opening the object and taking out another ring, this one made of gold. Izuku watches all of it open-mouthed in shock.
One hand holds Izuku's hand and the other holds the golden ring. He places the engagement ring on his ring finger, and then kisses the spot.  Katsuki smiles at Izuku, who is still looking at the blonde like a idiot.
"You're my fiancé now, Izuku." he declares.
Izuku even tries to formulate an answer, but Katsuki kisses him and that's enough to make him lose any kind of coherent thought he had left.
The blonde gets up and leaves, leaving a completely confused Izuku behind, admiring the new engagement ring with a goofy smile on his face.
27 notes · View notes
spikybanana · 2 years
Text
@wolfstarmicrofic - june 4th - prompt: wildfire - first war
Remus woke to the smell of smoke and cackle of burning twigs. The wolf pack’s lair was burning, over and around them.
The pack’s leader— young, too young— had grabbed him by the arm, “Wildfire,” he said, scared and questioning.
“No.” Remus replied, breathing through the metallic tang in the air, “it’s magic. Wand magic.”
Out on the forest floor, there was shouting, flash of curses, and cries of panic as they tried to get away. Momentarily, Remus saw the figure of one he’d never dreamed to be on the attackers’ side. It was Sirius.
Something in him snapped in half, a pained noise tore from his throat, but he hadn’t time to hide. Sirius had seen him, and was running towards Remus. It’s been weeks since they last saw each other.
“What the fuck you doing here?” Remus cried out, felt the anger burning through him, “Is this an Order’s attack? What the fuck are they thinking?”
Sirius stood undaunted. The flame around them disguised the cool colour of his eyes.
“Remus, I’m sorry, I—”
“Who did this? Why are you with them?”
“Look we didn’t know you’d be here! I didn’t know—”
“That doesn’t— Sirius— it doesn’t justify anything— Fuck— here I thought you’d have known to—’
“Remus please listen, it’s not what you think—”
“Is this not an unprovoked attack? No, no, Sirius I’ve got to go— I can’t be seen with you.”
“Remus let me explain—”
“You can’t, they trusted me, don’t you understand? I could have convinced—”
“I’m sorry—”
“But clearly I was wrong, god, Sirius let me go!”
“I was—”
Expression twisting in pain of betrayal, Remus wrenched himself away.
Sirius watched Remus as he rushed to the side of another young wolf, watched him put a comforting arm around them, only to have them flinch away with a suspicious glare that made Remus recoil.
“I was trying to stop them.” Sirius said quietly, for no one to hear. The fire continued to burn.
58 notes · View notes
usualstranger · 5 months
Text
i feel like i transitioned "too much"
not for myself, im pretty content with every medical decision i made
but since i began hrt, and even more so since top surgery, i feel like im being denied nonbinary spaces
like i keep describing my gender with vague noises & hand motions, i have stickers with the nonbinary pride flag on a bunch of my belongings, i dont hide it
well for medical staff, work & family im officially One Of The Boys™
and for strangers its about 50/50 in terms of pronouns/gendered language, and i dont correct them either way
but my close, queer friends dont really see me as nonbinary
even the nonbinary ones
and that kinda hurts
like id post a meme on a group chat & theyd make it pretty clear they think im targeting them, or they say things like "oh well we're talking about nonbinary stuff so..." because they think i dont belong in the conversation
& any time i mention people being confused by my gender (which i feel really happy about), they really insist on me looking like such a Manly Man, and how the other person must have been blind or something because its so obvious im a Man
idk
i wonder if that has happened to anyone else
& i know im very lucky to have such supportive friends & they dont mean any harm obviously
but idk it still hurts
i feel like ive spent so much time trying to escape one tiny box & i thought i would be free but ive been put in this other one instead & i dont have the energy to start this whole fight all over again
anyway
its far from a big problem i know, im in a really privileged position rn
but it kind of sucks being excluded by your own peers & close friends from something you really want to be a part of
3 notes · View notes
bluebloodedbug · 7 months
Text
shhhh this is definitely not months later than it should be you're crazy if you think that
4 notes · View notes
Note
Hi hi!!
Saw that your reqs were open, so I wanted to get one in while I could! I’m super interested in your oc Kraepelin :o How do you think he’d act if he had a crush?
Thank you if you take this request!! (Also I’d love to be pals if you’re interested, you seem super cool :D if not no worries lol)
Take care <33
OMG KRAEPLIN HEADCANNONS Time.
Kraeplin crush headcannons:
word count: ~373
Kraeplin's a touch-starved baby who's confused, hates crowds, and struggles to understand most things people take for granted.
Be patient with him; he's never had a crush before and doesn't know how to express himself.
Earn his trust by treating him with basic decency, spending time with him, and showing you care. These simple gestures will make a world of difference to him.
Once he realises his feelings, expect an outpouring of affection. He'd be smitten with you.
He's an open book, incapable of keeping a secret, so don't expect him to surprise you.
He's constantly by your side, studying you and learning about your interests by introducing you to new things he's discovered.
Whatever gift you give him will immediately become his prized possession(s).
He may be afraid of crowds, but for his crush, he'll be a little more daring.
If you get hurt, he'll take you to one of his sheds and keep you safe until you're healed. (Although it may look like kidnapping.)
If you're a synth monster like him, he'll make sure you and him stay hidden from the world.
His crush brings out a more adventurous side of him, which includes being loud and telling more jokes than usual. He'll also try new things and learn new skills for you.
You're helping him come out of his shell.
He is unaware of many things, but he's a quick learner who learns best through trial and error.
Show him kindness, and you'll be the best thing to happen to him since he lost everything that made him feel good.
Despite being naive, he's not technically childish. He understands social clues, body language, and feelings better than most humans or monsters.
He can't write, but he'd definitely learn how to if you enjoy stories, poetry, and literature.
Over all, it's not really a slow burn, but his crush on you would be a development in his character that would change him for the better. Regardless of whether the crush evolves into more or if it fades away or ends badly,
He learned to care, trust, acknowledge, and feel for others.
Ps+ teach him how to flirt, then flirt with him. He's going to start blushing like crazy.
3 notes · View notes
Note
Hey lovely! Congratulations on the milestone! 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉
I wish to humbly request Tech with a romantic fem!reader. Your choice of spice! (I’m happy with either SFW or suggestive!) 300 words with the prompt 1. "You... you really mean it, don't you?"
Thank you again lovely! 😘😘😘
One Game
Tech x Fem!Reader
Tumblr media
Pairing: Tech x Fem!Reader
Tags & Warnings: insomnia, fluff
Word Count: 300
Author's Note: MAMA PINEAPPLE, I AM SO SORRY. I got so carried away trying to complete the bingo fics that I let the last three event requests sit idle in my inbox. However, as promised in my New Years post, I have finally completed it!!! Thank you so much for your patience and putting up with me. I hope you like it 💚
Tumblr media
The night is late, but your insomnia is out in full force. You toss and turn in your small bunk, as the Marauder careens through hyperspace. You sigh and decide to get out of your bunk to go do something other than trying to fall asleep. As you make your way through the corridor and towards the refresher, you see Tech sitting by himself and staring at his data-pad.
"Can't sleep either?" you say as you approach him.
Tech doesn't look up from his data-pad. "I prefer to work after the others have gone to sleep."
"Oh," you say, slightly disappointed.
"I presume that you cannot sleep?" Tech asks, still tapping on his data-pad.
"You presume correctly," you sigh, then flop down onto the seat next to him.
You both sit in silence for a moment.
"Hey," you say, breaking the silence. "Do you want to play dejarik?"
Tech lifts his eyes over his data-pad. "Not at this time."
"Please?" you ask. "I'm so bored. Just one game?"
Tech sighs. "If it will keep you quiet so I can finish my work, then I will agree."
"Sweet!" you exclaim.
You get up from your seat and set up the game on the holo-projector. You input your team and patiently wait for Tech to set up his team. The game goes on for several turns, and at one point, you thought you might actually beat him, but in the end, he still wins the round.
"You're very good at this," Tech says. "Perhaps we should play another round."
"You…" you say with a shocked expression. "You really mean it, don't you?"
"Mean what?" he asks.
"That's the first compliment you've ever given me," you say with a smile.
"Well," he begins as he adjusts his goggles, "it is a well-deserved compliment."
Tumblr media
Event Masterlist
Masterlist
A03
Tag List: @nahoney22 @commander-sunshine @sunshinesdaydream @padawancat97 @verndusk @sun-roach @coraex @lickylickylicky @homemade-clones @523rdrebel @clonemedickix @starrylothcat @moonwrecked @ladyzirkonia @stunkbiggu @cdblake1565 @ladytano420 @moonlightwarriorqueen @anxiouspineapple99 @clonethirstingisreal @dreamie411 @trixie2023 @cw80831 @ca77m3anna @reader6898 @rinwritesfics @t3mpest98 @novas-daydreaming
Join my taglist HERE
Tip me a tea on Ko-fi HERE
65 notes · View notes
zyrafowe-sny · 1 year
Text
for want of a glove
a 300 word triple drabble in which Hunter considers the consequences of his sartorial choices
Tumblr media
At some point, he had taken his gloves off and never put them back on.
Perhaps it had been the summer heat when they first arrived. Or maybe their Human Realm disguises. Or just the little bit of extra dexterity he gained without them.
Whatever the reason, he had left his hands unprotected and was now suffering the repercussions.
Except that it was Flapjack who had paid the ultimate price. Crushed by his ungloved hands.
Ironic, that his uncle was the one who had pushed him to always be fighting ready and keep his armor on (unless they were alone – then his mask came off so there would be no secrets and so he could properly face the consequences – his face wore the marks of his uncle's displeasure). The gloves always stayed on – if his hands were too badly injured, he would be of no use to the Titan his uncle anyone.
Pity that he'd forgotten that after escaping from the Collector (when he feared hoped thought his uncle was gone for good). He'd grown soft and careless.
The sewing machine had seemed harmless enough. (So had the spinning wheel to Sleeping Beauty, and she had found herself cursed to slumber, waiting for True Love's Kiss. He hadn't received a kiss, but he had no doubt there was True Love involved when the little cardinal nestled on his heart and brought him back from not-so-eternal rest.)
Through inattention and hubris, he had created an entryway. And then the sludge his uncle had entered through that open door (his uncle would make another one a few short days later, and he'd be the first to follow him through).
He'd been foolish, but he wouldn't allow himself to be so vulnerable again.
He put on his new gloves and prepared to fight.
Thanks so much for reading! This ficlet is cross-posted on AO3 if you’d like to leave kudos or comments there.
10 notes · View notes
whimsicalmeerkat · 8 months
Text
foolish thoughts - psy-changeling
On AO3
Kaleb sits in the back of Xavier Perez’s church in San Francisco and looks at the moonlight shining through the windows on one side of the sanctuary.
A triple drabble written for Battleship 2023.
2 notes · View notes
rockingrobin69 · 9 months
Text
Wish
A tiny spark from the corner of his eye: Harry shut it, chewed on the smile.
“I know you’re awake, Potter.”
Pretended he couldn’t hear it. Swallowed the giggle.
“Come on, you big—urgh!” to Harry’s arms springing up, wrapping around him, “idiot, you nearly—Merlin, remind me never again.”
Harry blinked the fuzziness away. Draco’s face was lovely and flushed, close enough to lick, so he did (“UGH!”). “Never again, what?”
“Baked goods in bed,” with a roll of his eyes. “Potter, you’re squishing me. Ow, it’s—ow, fucker!”
Laughing, helpless with it, another tiny lick to the crook of his neck, a kiss to rosy cheek. “You made me a cake.”
“I made you a red-velvet cupcake and now it’s crumbling all over my perfect sheets. Woe is officially me.” But he was smiling. “Well? Are you going to try it anytime soon? I hope you’re not waiting for a song.”
Not a song, no. Squeezing Draco closer: “Can think of something better still.”
“Better than my baking? Doubtful.”
Tickling seemed the best course of action. Then Draco’s laughter, sharp and too loud, directly in his ear: made his chest flutter, made his toes curl.
“Oh, fine, fine—brute! Let me just set the bloody cupcake on the—ah, that’s—Potter! Honestly.” Turning back, liquid gold in Harry’s arms. “Is this how you wanted to celebrate?”
Thought about it. Nodded. “Yeah, pretty much. Then a cupcake. Then a shower. Then, more of this, I think?”
Draco smiled, this slanted, bright thing. “Very well. I seem to be inclined to indulge you. Today, your wish is my command.”
Harry’s been wishing for the same thing on every candle for years now. In bed, with a cupcake and his fiancé, with sunlight and fancy sheets and crumbs. He… got it, he thought.
110 notes · View notes