happyhauntt

[happyhauntt]

i would just like to be Not Sad for five fucking minutes

#brain for the love of god get it together #* faye rambles.

[happyhauntt]

fic edits ━━ Gold Rush  ━  Shadow & Bone: Anya and Nikolai.

i tried so hard / i came so far / i met a boy / he broke my heart                      snow angel by renee rapp.

#self reblog. #q.

[happyhauntt]

nikolai: wow, we both look great tonight.

zoya: you know, if you had just said ‘you look great tonight’ i would have said ‘so do you.’

nikolai: i couldn’t take that chance.

#* fandom: grishaverse. #q.

[happyhauntt]

#i was cACKLIN at ryan's delivery honestly #* fandom: 911. #q.

[happyhauntt]

me @ my mutuals

#* about faye. #q.

[happyhauntt]

if my wish were granted — nikolai lantsov

series masterlist | writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: anya likes teasing nikolai. it’s far too easy to get under his skin. this time, enjoying some peace aboard the Volkvolny, anya claims that she prefers sturmhond’s rugged looks over nikolai’s princely features.

─── pairing: nikolai lantsov & anya kamenev (original character.)

─── warnings: fluff, a lil angst if you squint, this is steamy with sexual references but no actual smut, i'd still put it as 18+ just in case, pre-established relationship, this might be the closest to smut i've ever written and i need validation so please tell me i did a good job even if it's a lie, mentions of past injury. oh and krysa = rat.

─── word count: 1.4k.

     The gentle rocking of the ship is a soothing lullaby to Anya. Curled up and warm beneath silk blankets, she feels like she is small again and her mother is humming a sweet Old Ravkan song in her ear, familiar and strange all at once.

     Her mother, of course, did no such thing in Anya's youth — all those nursemaids and nannies — but the rhythm of it is still a balm on her soul. The rocking of the ship, the steady beat of Nikolai's heart beneath her cheek, the scent of saltwater on his skin. This is home, she thinks. She has never felt contentment like this before. She fears she never will again.

     Nikolai stirs beneath her. He toys absently with the loose locks of her hair, curling honey-coloured strands around his fingers. A soft smile stretches over his face, and when he speaks, his voice is low and husky with the remains of sleep. "What are you thinking about?"

     She looks up at him, so close she can feel the warmth of his breath on her face. His lips brush her hair as he speaks, and something lights up inside her chest. A spark she prays will never go out. A sense of safety that settles over her only when he is near.

     She doesn’t respond at first. She raises her hand, draws a gentle line down his face, from his brow to his chin. Nikolai shivers beneath her touch. Her finger lingers on his nose for a few moments, brushing lightly over the tailored crookedness of it. Nikolai tilts his chin and kisses her fingertip.

     “Not much,” she says, finally, and it’s the truth. Her mind feels fuzzy and warm, and the air in the cabin smells like candle wax and salt. Though their country is wartorn and her thoughts are forever occupied with other, more pressing matters — here and now, her mind is quiet. Anya will savour this bliss, these fleeting moments of peace between them, for as long as she can. It is the only time he belongs to her, and nobody else.

      His grin is wide and smug and edged with lovesickness. The tips of his fingers draw abstract shapes on the bare skin of her shoulder. “That’s quite an achievement. I must have done a fantastic job, if you’ve managed to lose your thoughts. I had worried it couldn’t be done.”

     Anya scowls mockingly at him, but she cannot fight the smile that curls at the edge of her lips. “Alright then, sobachka, you asked for it. I was just thinking that I quite prefer your nose like this. All rugged and handsome.”

     He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that makes Anya’s stomach do somersaults. Muddy green eyes rove over her, as familiar to her now as Nikolai’s usual hazel. “I think I prefer when you used to call me krysa.”

     “Ah,” she says, “but I didn’t kiss you then, did I? I’d call you krysa and push you into the nearest puddle. And you certainly weren’t this handsome then. You were still a boy, prim and proper and clean-cut.”

     "But I was a soldier, darling, and you did manage to fall madly in love with me.” A muscle jumps in his jaw, and Anya feels like she’s won some kind of prize. “Is that not ruggedly handsome enough for you?"

     "I'm in love with you, am I? That's news to me."

     A low growl rolls through Nikolai’s chest and suddenly she's beneath him. He hovers over her like a Saint of all things unholy, propped up on his palms with a wicked grin slashed across his mouth, and he kisses her deeply, tongue lashing over hers before he trails lower, peppering open-mouthed kisses over her jaw, her chest, her stomach.

     A calloused hand wraps gently around her thigh. The rings studding his fingers are cold against her skin. He kisses her broken knee, softly, reverently. Looks up at her through heavy-lidded eyes. "How is it now?"

     "Much better." It had never healed right, but the pain of it doesn’t bother her much anymore. Anya is a soldier, after all. The salty breeze and the warmth of the air have eased the brittleness of her bones. Ravka's cold will be the death of her someday, she's sure.

     The scar that remains is little more than a puckered white line, disguising the sort of damage that will never go away, not completely. She had a cane made for when the pain is at its worst, when the chill makes her bones feel like knives beneath her skin and she can no longer put on a brave face. For the most part, it remains hidden out of sight. She despises feeling weak.

     "We're about an hour out from port," Anya murmurs, as Nikolai trails another line of kisses up her body. He ignores her for a moment, choosing to wrap her leg around his waist instead, humming against the column of her throat. "We should get dressed."

     His heart sinks at her words, and he buries his face in her neck. He feels her hand curling into his hair, stroking idly through tailored-red strands, and he wishes there was some way to stop time.

     He wants to press his lips to hers and kiss her until she's breathless. Wants to fuck her hard into the mattress until the rest of the world melts away and there's just this room and him. Wants to make her come so many times she can't remember her own name. Anything to keep her for a moment longer, soft and safe and happy, where the hell of reality can't touch her.

     But Nikolai has no such power, and in the next moment Anya is pushing him away, shimmying out from under him until she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, feet planted firmly on the floor. He reaches out with desperate hands, tries to latch them around her waist, but Anya merely casts an apologetic glance over her shoulder.

     The battle is lost, Nikolai knows, and so he sighs. Settling back on his elbows, he watches her retrieve some of their discarded clothes from the floor.

     “You look better in my clothes than I do,” he tells her as she tugs his shirt down over her head. She turns to face him, silhouetted against the golden light as it spills through the window. His shirt is long and loose on her, gaping at the chest where she’d pulled the ties undone. The hem just brushes the top of her thigh, leaving the rest of her long legs exposed in a way that leaves him breathless.

     She reaches up and sweeps her hair out of the collar, allowing it to fall in tangled curls down her back. “That’s because I’m wearing them, and you’re not. Up now, Kolya. Procrastinating will not make me stay longer; we both have schedules to keep.”

     When the Volkvolny finally docks in the port at Os Kervo, Nikolai kisses Anya just before she reaches the gangway. He keeps a tight grip on her waist but his lips are soft, tender, and Anya knows that if kisses could have a flavour, this one would taste of sadness.

     Saying goodbye is always the hardest part.

     When he pulls away, finally, he keeps her close. Their foreheads press together and his eyes are closed, as if he can keep her that way, as if the secret to making her stay is pretending she will always be there.

     She runs her thumb over the bridge of his nose, over the knots of ill-healed bone that Tolya put there, to disguise Nikolai’s true features. When he opens his eyes, they are green and not hazel, and a bolt of grief streaks through her. She misses them. She misses him, so much, and he is still here.

     She wonders if there will ever come a time when one of them isn’t always leaving.

     Two weeks after she leaves, a letter from Tamar appears, delivered with the rest of Anya’s correspondance. Her laughter peels out of her office and if her employees wonder what has made their boss, usually so stern and sober, sound so utterly giddy, then none of them mention it.

     Please tell the captain that you think he’s handsome as-is, Tamar writes. He keeps goading Tolya into actually trying to break his nose. Anya laughs until tears drip from her chin and the ink smears across the page. And if her next letter to Nikolai is a little more complimentary than usual, well, that’s a sacrifice she is willing to make.

#self reblog. #icymi. #q.

[happyhauntt]

On becoming someone else

i. War of the Foxes, Richard Siken / ii., v., viii., xi. Leisure, Hannah, Does Not Agree with You, Hannah Gamble / iii. unknown / iv. Mimmo Paladino / vi. Book 20e, In between here and there, Beata Wehr / vii. unknown / ix. unknown / x. @heartlessqueen

#* type: words. #q.

[happyhauntt]

Buck as the eternal playboy but folding the second the reader hits on him back? Maybe corner him against a wall for funsies >:)

THE LONG GAME — E.BUCKLEY

flirting between friends was always fun, but sometimes it borders something that is definitely not platonic, and once that line is crossed, buck’s not sure he wants to go back to what you had before.

WARNINGS: 16+ for suggestiveness, alcohol, lots of flirting, chimney being a cockblock rip, buck is so sexually frustrated rip

evan buckley x gn!reader || ???? || 3.1k || requests open!

a/n: not me giggling over my own writing, how sad is that-

₊ ⊹ masterlist!!

Arguably the best part about your job was being able to celebrate a job well done.

That feeling of accomplishment after getting through a really tough call with nothing but a positive outcome.

The team never went half-assed on the celebrations, and you’re sure that the bar you all frequent post-shift knows you all by name by now from how often you all abandon your nights to spend an extra few hours in each other’s company.

That was another thing you loved about your job. The team. Your family.

You could spend 24 straight hours with them and they’d still make an excuse to spend a few more with everyone.

Today was no different. You rolled up to the bar in a tight-circle, eerily resembling the professional attitude you had to display during your work hours, one not yet shed considering it’d only been three-quarters of an hour since your shift ended.

You knew it wouldn’t last long, you’d all be too drunk to care about professionalism soon enough. Well except Bobby anyway.

You barely had time to walk through the front doors before Buck was running up to the bar to order everyone a round of drinks, a confident smirk etched on his face that only grew as the local news recounted the story of one of they day’s earlier calls with civilian footage.

“I wonder who that is,” He nudges your side as you walk over, cockiness washing all over his face as he nods up towards the TV hanging up by the ceiling. “They look pretty badass,”

You give him an almost dismissive hum as you pick up one of the glasses from the cluster to take a sip of the craft beer filling it. “I wonder,”

“Oh come on, you’re all over the news,” He gives you another small nudge. “You’re practically famous right now,”

He leans in towards you to talk over the music, reaching over to grab a pint glass of his own and clinking it animatedly against yours before taking a swig from it.

“He’s right you know,” Hen gives you nudge herself, joined by an enthusiastic thumbs up from Chimney behind her. “Own it,”

“Right? you pulled a whole superhero move,” Buck motions up towards the news broadcast again, where they are still replaying a clip of you kicking through a pane of reinforced glass on a high-rise from on top of the roof as an alternative method of entry to the collapsed stairwell on the inside.

“Sounds like you’re projecting Buckley, jealous?” You raise your eyebrow with an air of amusement as you take another swig from your glass.

“Absolutely not, in fact, I’m the opposite of jealous right now,” He leans in towards you again so that your shoulders brush together. “It was hot,”

“Okay horndog,” You roll your eyes at his comment, pushing away his face with the palm of your hand pressed to his forehead. “Keep it in your pants will you?”

He does nothing but laugh at the way you scold him, allowing you your personal space as he sits up straight once more.

Buck’s ability to flirt his way through any situation was honestly mildly impressive, how he managed to twist any situation into having a sensual undertone no matter what it was.

Last week it was Eddie carrying a sandbag into the station gym. The week before that it was the fact that Hen had cut a slice of lasagna for him instead of him doing it himself.

And apparently this week’s target was you. For jumping off a roof and shattering a glass window with your feet.

You’d question his taste if you didn’t know he was joking.

Although as the night went on and the table became increasingly cluttered with empty glasses, you started to question whether it was actually a joke.

Whether it was some quirk of his personality, or something more serious.

They say that drunk words are sober thoughts right? And Buck was definitely drunk and definitely spouting some choice words right now.

He whistles as you pot one of the striped balls on the pool table, his competitiveness all but disappeared underneath the haze that his alcohol consumption had laid over his brain. “Skilled with your feet and your hands? You’re just about every guy’s dream,”

He leans across the pool table to aim his shot, pool cue horribly aimed to the point where the cue ball barely skims the solid red ball he was aiming for. “Probably every girl’s dream too actually,”

“Instead of trying to kiss my ass, maybe you should focus on actually playing the game,” You genuinely can’t tell by this point whether his poor skills were an effect of the alcohol running through his system or if he was doing it on purpose just to get under your skin.

If there was one thing you did, it was play fair, and that included not letting your opponent give you an easy win.

“Oh how I would love to kiss that ass,” He makes an exaggerated show of leaning backwards to get a clear view, giving you another short whistle as you lean over the table to line up your next shot.

“Win the game and maybe i’ll let you,”

You swear you can see the moment his mind fractures, enunciated by another striped ball falling into one of the pockets and you lining up another shot.

He’s like a robot doing a hard reset, his eyes staring blankly at you like he physically cannot comprehend that you’d actually say something like that.

You don’t make your next shot, though whether by distraction from Buck’s eyes on the side of your face or your own drunken mistake you’re not entirely sure. Either way, when you straighten up to stand again, Buck hasn’t moved an inch.

“Go on, your turn,” You tap the side of his arm with your pool cue, amusement washing over your features as you watch him physically jolt from the contact and shake his head as if to physically shake off what you’d said to him.

Who knew such a casanova would get so flustered when someone played along with his little flirting game.

He ended up losing of course, you were far too much ahead for him to have a chance of catching up before you potted the eight ball and took the game, and you could swear there was a trace of disappointment in his eyes, and not because of the four solid colour balls still left on the table.

He didn’t even glance at them.

No, instead he kept his eyes firmly locked on you as you gloated your win.

“Now that is something to celebrate,” You lay your cue on the table with a victorious smirk. “Better luck next time I suppose,”

Your cockiness continues to flourish as you pot the remaining balls into the pockets and take Buck’s pool cue from him to lay it next to yours. “So what’s my reward then?”

”I- What?” He blinks at you a few times, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as his mind tries to catch up to the conversation.

“Well we laid out what would happen if you won, so what do I get for actually winning?” You tilt your head to the side as you take a step towards him, arms crossed over your chest with your eyebrow raised. “Surely I deserve to be rewarded, no?”

“I can uh…I can buy you a drink…” Buck pursed his lips together, dry swallowing as he leant backwards against the pool table upon your approach. He honestly didn’t know what was coming over him. Why was he so ruffled under the collar about this?

This was his prime domain, so why was it the second that you mirrored his interest he shut down and started backtracking on himself like a highschooler?

“I think we’ve had enough drinks don’t you?” You take another step forward as he sits on the edge of the table, essentially boxing him in despite there being very easy escape points at both his right and his left. “Besides, I want to be sober enough to remember this tomorrow,”

What on earth did you mean by that?

God he felt pathetic right now, a 6’2, 220lbs man being boxed in against a pool table of all things by one of his extremely attractive coworkers because you’d had a sudden streak of confidence and decided to flip his advances back on himself.

“Uh…” He gives a small, half awkward chuckle as his eyes flicker to consciously remain focused on your own eyes and not fall downwards. He knew the uniforms were tight but god did he not notice how tight they were until he was having to physically restrain himself from looking further down. “Right well- uh- what do you want then..?”

Buck watched as your eyes left his to flicker downwards, not so far down that you were staring at his chest, but just far down enough that he could tell you had your attention on a part of his face that was not his eyes.

He’d blame the bright red of his cheeks on the drinks if you asked about it, but you seem far too enamoured by the way he nervously purses and bites his lips under your gaze to even so much as glance at anything else.

“You know what I want..?” You break your staring to meet his eyes again, although you still make the time to turn your eyes down to his mouth again during the breaks between words.

He swears you’re leaning in with every word, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t leaning in himself, a sharp, stuttered breath escaping his lips as you get close enough so your breath fans across his cheeks. “I think so…”

You give a small hum at his answer, lips quirking into a smile as you narrow your gaze and tilt your head slightly to the left so that your noses don’t bump together as you bring your faces within an inch of each other.

His lips part on instinct, breathing a whisper of air into your mouth as he anticipates the contact with closed eyes.

“I want you to stop drinking my orange juice,”

The tension in his shoulders seems to drop at your statement, and his eyes shoot back open as you pull yourself back to stand fully upright, absolute delight drenching your features as you read the waves of shock and dissatisfaction that roll over him at the sudden change in atmosphere. “What?-”

He was so close. So close to having your lips on his. And you ripped it away from him with that stupidly hot smirk on your face like you knew exactly what you were doing.

You definitely knew what you were doing.

“In the station, I know it’s you,” You explain yourself like it’s no big deal, like you weren’t centimetres from giving Buck what he’d been pining for for so goddamn long a few seconds ago. “Buy your own juice,”

“I- Seriously?” Exasperation practically drowns his voice as he speaks, and he narrows his gaze with an air of desperation that makes you want to give him exactly what he wants. “You pretend you’re going to kiss me and then tell me not to drink your goddamn orange juice? Not cool man,”

“Maybe you shoulda won the game, I don’t know what to tell you,” You shrug your shoulders with an air of nonchalance that only you would be able to muster in a situation like this, and it frustrates Buck beyond all belief.

“That’s not fair,” Buck shakes his head as he stands. “I didn’t know you were being serious,”

“Well that’s just too bad isn’t it?” You clasp your hands together with a tilt of your head.

“No, we’re not just gonna move on okay?” It’s Buck’s turn to approach you now, his hands emphasising his words as he waves them in front of himself. “I have waited so long for you to suggest you were interested in me you cannot just back out like nothing happened,”

You swerve his approach with a laugh to walk around the side of the pool table, like his frustration is the funniest thing in the world to you and not literally tearing him apart with every moment you try to brush off the lingering tension between you. “You are way too pent up about this,”

“I am the exact right amount of pent up about this,” He follows you around the table to box you in as you did him, except this time there’s really no escape as he plants his hands firmly against the edge of the table on either side of you. “You can’t just lean in like you’re going to kiss me and bail right at the last second,”

“I thought you liked the long game,” You cross your arms over your chest as a deflection from the way your heart rate quickens, trying to cover the increase in how fast your chest rises and falls under the gaze he’s trapped you in.

“I’ve played long enough,” He leans his weight on his arms, bringing his face towards yours slowly. “I need to know if I’ve won,”

“I’d say so,” Your eyes are much less confident now the roles have been reversed, struggling to maintain contact with his as his face continues its steady path towards your own.

“Prove it.” You’re close enough now that you can feel the breath from every word he speaks on your skin, and his intentions are laid out very clearly as his gaze falls from your eyes to your lips.

He is going to kiss you if you don’t do anything to stop him.

He wants to taste the mix of alcohol on salt on your lips, explore the inside of your mouth with his tongue. He wants to feel the heat of your palms against his cheeks as you cup his face to stop him from pulling away and make you kiss him until neither of you can breathe.

He’s waited long enough to have you like this, and after your previous stunt, he’s not sure he can physically last much longer before he explodes from the frustration.

The way his hands slide from resting on the table either side of you to holding your hips solidifies that point tenfold.

He gives your waist a soft tug until your torso collides with his, and you have to brace your hands against his shoulders to stop yourself from losing your balance and stumbling right into him.

And then he’s leaning in again, his eyes flickering over your expression to look for any trace of hesitance or uncertainty in your features before he makes the final move.

And then there’s a shot glass between your faces.

“Shots?”

Chimney, ever horrible at reading the room —probably because he’s so drunk he can barely stand upright anymore— holds up two shots towards the two of you, one in each hand. “They’re on me~” He adds that extra part at the end as the true selling point, and it takes all of Buck’s self-restraint to not knock the glasses out out Chimney’s hand to make him leave the two of you alone.

You don’t seem so agitated.

“Why thank you,” You break from Buck’s grasp to take one of the shots from Chimney’s hand, raising it in Buck’s direction. “Here’s to playing the long game,”

You down the shot quickly, leaving the empty glass on the edge of the pool table to rejoin the group at the bar, leaving Buck alone and so goddamn sexually frustrated he genuinely thinks he might pass out from the strain.

You know exactly what you’re doing by dragging this out, and he has half the mind to prove your idea of ‘safety’ from his advances in the group wrong by sending his conscience to hell and giving in to his inhibitions in front of everyone.

But he’s not quite drunk enough to push it that far. Even if most of the team wouldn’t remember it if he did.

“So that’s a no on the shot?” Chimney raises the remaining shot glass in Buck’s direction, seemingly completely oblivious to the colossal cockblock he’d just imposed.

“If you weren’t so drunk right now I would punch you I swear-” Buck huffs as he all but snatches the glass from Chimney’s hand and downs the shot in exasperation, the sharp burn in his throat doing nothing to distract him from the ache in his chest from having a possible moment from you ripped from underneath his nose again in the span of less than ten minutes.

“Woah, what did I do?” Chimney furrows his eyebrows in offence at Buck’s statement. “We’re supposed to be family man, last time I buy you anything,” He scoffs in indignation as he leaves Buck to join the rest of the group once more, clearly unhappy with Buck’s reception to his ‘gift’ of a free shot.

A free shot and a missed shot at finally making a move on you.

He knew that come your next shift you’d ignore everything that had happened tonight, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to go back to the silent glances and subtle gestures. He wanted all of you, not just some aimless flirting that never went anywhere.

At least he had confirmation that you were in fact interested in him, that was a step forward in the right direction he supposes.

But god was the long game starting to get on his nerves.

#nah this is fucking adorable #* fandom: 911. #* type: fic recs. #q.

[happyhauntt]

:-"I sense some tension...and not the friends type." Friends to lovers prompts-:

(Y'alllll I could not help myself. I had to do more!!! Hehehe. Tag me if you guys write any of these :)

The 'just friends' kiss that they have to do as a dare but they both like it and can't stop thinking about it 👀

^^ "I mean, I kinda liked it, I guess..." but then they see their friend's smug face and cough, "I didn't mean it that way!" "Uh huh."

"You know...for someone who says they like me just as a friend, you sure do blush a lot in my presence. What's up with that?"

Going on DATES without realizing that they're doing couple-y things and someone casually commenting they're a cute couple (hehehe)

^^ "We are not a couple. I swear-" "Yeah, never. They're not even my type." "Yeah, same here." (sureeeee mhmm)

Hugs lasting a little longer than usual, and it gets all awkward because they are waiting for the other one to pull away, but neither of them wants to.

Always being extra affectionate with them(i.e. complimenting, playfully teasing, etc)

Communicating using only their eyes(AHHHH)

Pillow fights turning into tackling fights into blushing messes

^^ "It's not fair though! You never let me tickle you! :(" "You have to get close to me to do that." They say with a teasing lick of their lips and a grin. "I- shut up!"

Borrowing their clothes and never returning it just so you can be warm and cozy in them and feel like it's their arms wrapped around you>>>>>

Calling them the first thing when they have a bad day, because they know seeing the other will make it so much better

^^"Hard day?" They ask with a gentle smile when they come in. "Yeah." And that's all they need before they have a cuddle session with both of their favorite movie playing and them just snuggled up :'((((

"You look at them like they hung the stars." A silence. "They did so much then that, and I can't ever be grateful enough, even if I wished to." (angsttttyyy)

*Confessing* "I...I love you. I don't know if it's okay to fall in love with your best friend, but I love you. And it's fine, if you don't love me back, because loving you has been the easiest thing I've ever done, and I'd never stop loving you even if you didn't love me back." "You know what? It is okay to love your best friend, because that's what I've done as well. And I would've never know that you also love me, if you never said it. So let me say this, I love you too." (I am deceased, did i just wrote that?)

Cue the long, slow kiss and the tears that run down their cheeks while doing so. And they lived happily ever after!

#* type: prompts. #q.

[happyhauntt]

This Old Love Has Me Bound 2/2

Pairing: Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz, minor Evan Buckley/Tommy Kinard Rating: Teen and up Chapter Word Count: 6038 Overall Word Count: 9554 Chapter Summary: “You have a good day with Tommy yesterday?” Eddie asks as they weave their way through the fruit and vegetable aisle. He’s not looking at Buck as he asks the question which might mean something. Or he’s just more concerned with deciding which oranges are the ripest. “Yeah, it was nice,” Buck says as he grabs a pack of apples for himself. “Did you, um, did you do anything in the end?” He still feels a little guilty for blowing Eddie off yesterday. Eddie doesn’t answer right away, silent long enough that it has Buck looking up at him. He’s staring at the grapes display in concentration as if he and Chris could ever be convinced to eat green grapes. “I saw Marisol,” he says finally, selecting the same brand of red grapes he always gets and setting it in the cart. “We sort of…broke up?” “You what?” Buck asks, whipping around so fast he almost sends Eddie’s cart wheeling into the strawberry display. He catches it just in time.

Read here on ao3

#ADORABLENESS AT ITS PEAK #* type: fic recs. #* fandom: 911.

[happyhauntt]

I refuse to cry about this alone

#oh i'm fucking sobbing #* type: video edits. #* fandom: 911.

[happyhauntt]

PIPER HALLIWELL | 2.11 - Reckless Abandon

#* ch: grace buckley. #* type: faceclaims. #* fic: the alchemy. #q.

[happyhauntt]

since all i can talk about is my star wars ocs

height difference trope except dory is taller than poe by half an inch and always wears heeled shoes and he loves that he gets to look up at his girl

#* fic: beautiful ghosts. #* ship: poe and dory.

[happyhauntt]

The Princess Bride (1987) dir. Rob Reiner

#did you mean: my life #but also mOVIE OF ALL TIME #* stuff faye loves. #* film: the princess bride. #q.

[happyhauntt]

Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena // Alain de Botton, Essays in Love // Eden Robinson, "Writing Prompts for the Broken-Hearted" // Chloe Liese, Always Only You // Anne Carson and Euripides, An Oresteia // Two—Sleeping At Last // Studio Bones, SK8 the Infinity // Trista Mateer, "is it okay to say this?" // @moodylilac // D. H. Lawrence, "The Rainbow"

#* type: words. #q.

[happyhauntt]

I really like the word “smitten”. because at first glance you just think of sappy lovey-dovey stuff but also you have to remember this is a word that’s born of the word “smite.” a devastating word. a word that, summarized, means stricken. smitten means stricken as well — struck with devastating affection.

#* type: words. #q.

[happyhauntt]

can you believe that we have fanfiction. that we have websites dedicated to fanfiction. that there is a place that you can go and read tens, hundreds, thousands and thousands of pieces of writing that strangers have made. people who are not "writers". people who come home at the end of the day and have feelings and say, i am going to put that into words. i am going to share those words. short, long, sweet, sad, horny, funny, wonderful words. we are all just human and we all love to make and remake and share that with others. can you believe that.

#!!!! #* about faye. #q.