#1+5 sentence fics

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

several sentences sunday

tagged by @tizniz @daffi-990 @wikiangela @devirnis @elvensorceress @thekristen999 @lemonzestywrites @spotsandsocks @hoodie-buck

thank you lovelies! <3

another snippet from calls fic which i think is just gonna haunt me forever asdfghjkl

“You good?” Eddie asks when it’s been silent for too long, praying that the complexities swirling inside him aren’t present in his voice. If anyone could hear them, it would be Buck.

“What? Yeah, yeah, sorry, just–tired.”

Eddie is pretty sure tired isn’t what Buck was originally going to say.

Buck has the uncanny ability to steer people, including himself, away from what’s really going on inside his head, masterful at the craft of saying things that aren’t necessarily true but aren’t exactly lies either, euphemisms spilling from his mouth like sanctified honesty, so very hard not to believe.

And Eddie has learned how to navigate this for the most part, knows when he needs to push and when he needs to hold back, knows when Buck wants him to offer something he can take whether it’s advice or sympathy or an opinion and when Buck needs him to deflect, to amuse, to lighten their circumstances enough that Buck can breathe.

Admittedly, Eddie doesn’t always do what Buck wants or needs in these situations, because he is only human and stubborn and willful and at times dangerously affirmed of his own thoughts and occasionally frustrated easily enough that he will give no thought to how he should structure his sentences, often straddling the line between being careful with Buck but also not treating him like he’s fragile, but right now, well, right now Eddie has the feeling that a strong gust of wind could knock Buck over, so he treads delicately.

“I, uh–” Buck coughs and there’s some rustling in the background, a familiar enough sound that lets Eddie know Buck is currently sitting on his couch. “I just got home and realized I kinda forgot about our usual Thursday dinner.”

Eddie tuts as loud as he can into the phone, leaning back against the counter so it digs into the bottom of his back. “A truly unforgivable offense, Buckley. Not sure how Chris and I will recover.”

Banter is easiest. Banter he can do. It’s the thing they use most often with each other, because it’s fun, yes, but also because it’s the only thing they really know how to do properly. They can fully lean into it because there are no expectations or consequences, it’s just–them, being silly and teasing because it makes the other feel better and because anything else might be too soft or too harsh to bear.

tagging @spaceprincessem @bucktits @shitouttabuck @911onabc @try-set-me-on-fire @rewritetheending @sibylsleaves @messyhairdiaz @bvckandeddie @loserdiaz @rogerzsteven @shyaudacity @buddierights @monsterrae1 @gayedmundodiaz @heartshapedvows @wh0re-behavi0r @thewolvesof1998 @sunshinediaz @jeeyuns @spagheddiediaz @exhuastedpigeon @butchdiaz @bucks118 and anyone else who wants to share!

#buddie #buddie wip #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 #911 abc #buck x eddie #911 fic #5+1 calls #ryan writes #several sentence sunday

[chicgeekgirl89]

Rating: T Characters: Carlos Reyes and T.K. Strand Summary: In the early days of their budding relationship, T.K. and Carlos discover some of each other's more adorable characteristics. Or, five times T.K. learns adorable things about Carlos and one time Carlos learns something adorable about T.K. A/N: Thanks to @bluenet13 for the title help on this one. It's been on the back burner for a while and it was time for it to fly free. Also working on a reverse 5+1 companion for it, so keep your eyes open for that...someday... Tagging: This is more than seven sentences, but please accept it anyway. Thanks to @strandnreyes, @bonheur-cafe, @carlos-in-glasses, @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut, @ladytessa74, and @lemonlyman-dotcom. Tagging @liminalmemories21, @welcometololaland, @carlos-tk, @louis-ii-reyes-strand, @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad, and anyone else who would like to share your Seven Sentence Sunday! Read on AO3

Glasses

T.K. is brushing his teeth in Carlos’ bathroom. Usually his daily oral hygiene wouldn’t be a notable event, but today it feels monumental. Because it’s Carlos’ bathroom. And T.K. is brushing his teeth. Because he’s staying over. Because they’re together. Like really together. Officially. 

He smiles goofily at his reflection in the mirror, his mouth still full of white paste and toothbrush. He’s happy. Really, truly, deeply happy.

He opens up Carlos’ medicine cabinet one handed as he continues brushing away and realizes that while he remembered to bring a razor he did not remember to bring shaving cream. “Hey babe,” he calls around his mouthful as he turns around and pokes his head back into the bedroom, “can I borrow—“

His eyes find Carlos on the bed and he immediately chokes on his toothpaste and has to rush back to the sink to spit it out. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before turning and marching back through the open doorway. 

Carlos looks at him, amusement on his face. “You okay over there?”

“Since when do you wear glasses?”

Because he is. Carlos is sitting in his bed, shirtless, hair soft and wildly curly after his shower, a paperback in his hands, and a pair of glasses on his face. Glasses that T.K. has definitely never seen before in his life. Glasses that are kind of knocking the wind out of him.

“Since the fourth grade?” Carlos says. 

“But I’ve never…you’ve never worn them when I’ve been here.”

“I haven’t?” Carlos scrunches up his nose in thought and it makes him even more freaking adorable. “Are you sure?”

“I think I would remember my boyfriend morphing into Clark fucking Kent,” T.K. retorts.

Carlos chuckles. “I only wear them at night when my contacts start bothering me.”

“You should wear them more often.” The words are out of T.K.’s mouth before he even realizes it. He feels wildly out of control of himself right now and who could blame him? His already incredibly fucking hot boyfriend now looks like an incredibly fucking hot librarian and it is making T.K. think some very, VERY dirty thoughts.

Carlos raises his eyebrows. “Why?” A slow, lazy, self-satisfied smile spreads across his  face. “You think they’re sexy?”

“God yes.”

T.K. is across the room in two seconds flat, scrambling onto the bed and pulling Carlos’ face to his for a bruising kiss. Carlos immediately drops his book and responds in kind, mouth open and inviting as his hands grip T.K.’s hips and pull him close. “You called me your boyfriend,” he says when they finally break apart for air.

“I did,” T.K. says, diving back in for another taste of Carlos in glasses. It’s completely different than regular Carlos. It’s nerdy. And hot. He loves it.

“You’ve never called me your boyfriend before,” Carlos says breathlessly, grinning so wide it’s like the sun has come out. “I like it.”

T.K. grins back at him. “Me too.”

Socks

“Oh my god,” Carlos says as T.K. collapses onto his chest and presses kisses into his sweat sticky skin. “How does it just keep getting better?”

“Because we’re amazing,” T.K. mumbles against his pecs, his eyes already heavy with sleep. “So. Freaking. Amazing.”

He takes a few breaths and feels his body relaxing as sleep pulls him down. He snuggles deeper into Carlos’ chest, eyes drifting shut. He’s nearly out when he feels Carlos shift beneath him.

“Where are you going?” he asks, tightening his hold on Carlos’ torso to keep him from moving.

“I’ll be right back. I just need to put some socks on,” Carlos says, pressing a kiss to his hair. 

T.K.’s eyes pop back open and he props himself up to look at Carlos’ face. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m going to put some socks on,” Carlos repeats.

Things still aren’t computing in T.K.’s brain. “…why?” he finally asks slowly.

“Because if we’re going to sleep I need to wear socks.”

He was looking for clarity, but now he’s even more confused. “I don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand? I’m putting socks on to go to bed,” Carlos says, looking equally as confused.

“But…why?”

“Because otherwise I might catch a cold,” Carlos says with a laugh, gently pushing T.K. off so he can get to his feet.

T.K. blinks a couple times trying to get his bearings and then rolls over, sitting up with the sheet wrapped around his waist. “That is not how colds work. Like not even close.”

Carlos returns and sits on the bed to pull his socks on. “I know that,” he says.

“And yet you’re still putting the socks on,” T.K. says.

“My mom always made us wear socks to bed when we were kids.”

“Is she coming over?” T.K. asks incredulously.

“No.”

“Then why are you wearing them?!”

“Because she always made us!”

T.K. takes a breath. “Let me get this straight. You are going to get into this bed with me, fully naked, except for socks that you’re going to wear because your mom made you do it when you were seven?”

Carlos pauses. “Well when you say it like that it sounds stupid.”

“Your words, not mine.”

“I just like it okay? I’ve done it forever. I can’t sleep without them,” Carlos says defensively as he slides back into bed beside T.K. “Is this some kind of a dealbreaker for you?”

“Nope,” T.K. says. “Just trying to understand. If wearing socks to bed is what does it for you, then by all means wear the socks.”

“Thank you,” Carlos says, giving him a peck on the lips and turning out the light before pulling T.K. close and snuggling in to go to sleep.

T.K. gets comfortable and closes his eyes, but he can’t stop the thoughts running through his mind in the dark and quiet of the room. He sits up and turns the light back on. “I really need you to tell me that you understand that you can’t catch a cold from not wearing socks though.”

Romance

T.K. loves being in Carlos’ condo without him. He likes it better when Carlos is around obviously. But he feels so special that Carlos has given him a key and invited him to share his space. It means he trusts T.K. enough to let him be here alone where it’s peaceful and calm, unlike his dad’s house which somehow feels crowded even though there are only two of them there most of the time.

Carlos’ place feels more like home than anywhere else has in a long time.

He takes his shoes off when he arrives and dutifully puts them away, then grabs a mineral water and a yogurt out of the fridge before collapsing onto Carlos’ couch. “Ouch,” he says with a frown as something pokes into his back from behind the throw pillow.

He reaches behind him and pulls out a book. It’s not unusual to find books around the condo, Carlos is a big reader, but the brightly colored cover on this one makes T.K. pause and raise his eyebrows. The Spanish Love Deception is the title and when he flips it over to read the back he learns that Catalina Martín is in desperate need of a date for her sister’s wedding and her mortal enemy at work seems to be her only option.

He’s rifling through the pages when the door opens and Carlos walks in. “Hey,” he says, smiling as his eyes meet T.K.’s. “When did you get in?”

“Like fifteen minutes ago,” T.K. tells him as Carlos slips off his shoes and then comes over to press a kiss to his lips. “I found this behind the throw pillow.”

He holds up the romance novel and Carlos takes it from him. “Francesca must have left it here,” he says, referring to his sister. “Looks like her kind of book. I’ll text her and let her know you found it it.”

T.K. doesn’t think about it again for a couple of weeks until one night when his dad cancels their dinner plans and he spontaneously heads to Carlos’ instead. “Hey, it’s me!” he calls as he pushes the door open.

“T.K.?” Carlos appears at the top of the stairs, one hand behind his back, looking a little frazzled. “I thought you were going to dinner with your dad.”

“He bailed,” T.K. says, adjusting his overnight bag on his shoulder as he takes the stairs two at a time, giving Carlos a peck on his lips when he reaches him. “You okay?” he asks, taking in the weird expression on his boyfriend’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Carlos says, even as a minor amount of panic is flickering through his eyes. “I just didn’t know you were coming.”

T.K. looks him up and down. “Do you have some other guy in your bedroom?”

“What?! No!” Carlos says quickly.

“Were you watching porn?”

“Of course not!” Carlos says, but there’s a deep blush rising up in his cheeks. 

“What’s behind your back?” T.K. reaches for him, but Carlos steps away out of his reach.

“It’s nothing,” he says.

T.K. raises his eyebrows in amusement. “You know you are so freaking bad at lying, right?”

“Can we just drop it?” Carlos asks, desperation creeping into his voice.

T.K. takes a step forward so that Carlos is forced to back into the wall and then reaches around him and plucks the hidden object from his fingers. It’s another book, the cover bright blue with the title The American Roommate Experiment on the front. T.K. recognizes the name of the author as the same one from the book he found behind the couch cushions and his eyebrows rise. “Oh. You were reading porn.”

“It’s not porn,” Carlos says. “It’s a book.”

“Are you telling me there’s no sex in this book?”

“I…don’t know yet,” Carlos says, dropping his eyes. “I haven’t gotten that far.”

Delight is spiraling through T.K. as he fully realizes what’s going on. “That was your book a couple weeks ago. Not your sister’s.” He can feel his eyes start to sparkle with mischief. “You like smutty romance novels.”

“I don’t like them because they’re smutty,” Carlos says quickly. “I like them because…I like them.”

“You like them because you’re a big old softy romantic,” T.K. says, poking him gently in the chest. “Do you watch Hallmark Christmas movies too?”

The silence that follows tells him all he needs to know. “You do,” T.K. says happily. He could not be more thrilled about this new discovery.

“I grew up with four sisters,” Carlos defends himself.

“Please tell me you read Fifty Shades.”

“I would never,” Carlos scoffs. “Those books are not an accurate depiction of the BDSM community.”

“Oh my god you’re adorable,” T.K. tells him. 

“No, I’m, no don’t call me that,” Carlos says, clearly embarrassed.

“You are,” T.K. tells him, wrapping his arms around Carlos’ waist. “You are the most adorable boyfriend the world has ever seen.”

“Are you going to let this go, or is this something you’re going to talk about forever?” Carlos asks.

“Mmm definitely the second thing,” T.K. says as Carlos sighs with long suffering. “Now how about you take me to your bedroom and teach me some of the things you’ve learned from these books?”

Scaredy Cat

Sharing new things with each other has become a complete delight for T.K. So when he finds out that Carlos has never seen a single one of the Halloween movies, he declares the need for a marathon during the month of October and immediately goes over to his dad’s to dig out his DVD’s. No way is he dealing with ads breaking up the masterpiece that is Michael Myers. 

He’s popped popcorn, pulled out all the throw blankets, and even gone so far as to make up a bloody looking mocktail to really get them in the spirit of the movies. Now he’s just eagerly awaiting Carlos who has gone out to fetch their pizza.

He’s pulling down plates from the cupboard (Carlos refuses to eat pizza straight out of the box like they’re “college frat bros”) when the door opens and his boyfriend returns, pizza in hand. 

“Perfect timing!” T.K. says, eagerly taking the box from him and handing him the gory looking cocktail in return. 

“Oh, wow,” Carlos says. “This is…something.”

“I found a recipe online,” T.K. tells him excitedly as he dishes out pizza slices onto plates. “I thought they would be fun!”

“So creative,” Carlos says, poking at the gummy eyeballs that T.K. ordered online and added for extra pizzazz.

“Okay,” T.K. says as they settle onto the couch, his excitement at an eleven. “So, John Carpenter and Debra Hill wrote this in like ten days, which is crazy, and Carpenter got paid ten thousand dollars to write, direct, and score it. They built a cinematic masterpiece, the go-to film for horror, and they did it in ten days for ten thousand dollars. Can you even believe that?”

“Sure can’t,” Carlos says with a shake of his head. 

“We’re starting with the original Halloween,” T.K. tells him as he flicks on the television. “1963, Michael Myers versus a bunch of teenage girls. We’ll skip a few in the middle, Halloween: Resurrection isn’t worth anybody’s time, and while Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers does feature a young, fresh faced Paul Rudd, it has too many flaws to be worth watching.”

“So we’re skipping two out of…”

“Thirteen,” T.K. tells him.

“I guess I should have taken the month off of work,” Carlos tells him, sending him an odd, tense sort of smile.

Come to think of it, Carlos’ whole body feels a little tense too. If T.K. didn’t know any better, he’d think Carlos was nervous. But he chalks it up to worry over getting pizza grease on the couch and hits play as he snuggles into his boyfriend’s side.

They’re still snuggled together as Michael takes a knife to his teenage sister and T.K. doesn’t miss the way Carlos stiffens even further over the bloody scene. Or the way he seems to get more and more tense as the movie progresses. “You want another drink?” T.K. asks after Michael murders the Wallace’s dog.

Carlos shakes his head, his lips pressed together in a firm line, eyes a little wider than normal as he stares at the screen. He gasps audibly when Michael appears in Annie’s car and when T.K. looks down he finds that Carlos is gripping the edge of the couch cushions so hard that his knuckles are going white. 

By the time Michael starts going after Laurie, Carlos’ breathing has gone rapid and T.K. carefully slips his fingers under the edge of his sleeve to find his pulse racing. Not a surprise given the contents of the movie, but Carlos’ face has gone almost white and and he’s sitting so rigidly T.K. is afraid all of his muscles are going to lock up. 

“Carlos,” he says quietly, but Carlos doesn’t respond, eyes glued to the screen, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows hard.

“Carlos, are you okay?” T.K. asks again, reaching for the remote.

He’s too late. Michael appears out of nowhere and Carlos jumps to his feet with a shout, hands going to his hips as he paces a couple agitated steps back and forth. 

T.K. finally gets his finger on the button to pause the movie. “Carlos, hey, look at me,” T.K. says, feeling legitimately concerned.

“No I—it’s fine. I’m fine,” Carlos says, hand making chopping motions as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as T.K. “Go ahead, turn it back on. I’ll just um, I’m just going to—“

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” T.K. says.

“No I’m—it’s good,” Carlos says even as a car honks outside and he flinches violently.

“It’s not fine,” T.K. says. “You hate it. Let’s watch something else.”

“We can finish—“

“Carlos, you look like you think Michael is coming after you personally. We’re not watching anymore,” T.K. says with a chuckle, using the remote to flip over to live TV, Bobby Flay declaring loudly that he will not be beaten at his own culinary game this time.

“Thank you,” Carlos sighs, collapsing back into the couch.

“When were you going to tell me you hate horror movies?” T.K. asks.

“Never,” Carlos says, running a hand through his hair. “You were so excited and I thought maybe it would be okay.”

“But?”

“I begged my parents to let me watch It with my sisters when I was ten. I didn’t sleep for like a month after that and ever since…” he shivers, “I just don’t get why people like them.”

“It’s pretty cute you know,” T.K. says with a fond smile. “My big tough police officer being scared of horror movies.”

“Cute or pathetic?” Carlos says with a roll of his eyes, finally starting to look like himself again now that it’s vegetables being chopped up instead of people.

“Cute,” T.K. tells him definitively, pulling him close. “Now come here. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

Paparazzi

The radio is blaring when T.K. walks in from his shift, so loud that for a second he thinks he’s walked into the wrong condo. A quick glance around reveals that no, this is indeed Carlos’ place, although there’s no sign of Carlos anywhere, and it takes him another moment to realize the music is actually coming from upstairs.

He climbs the staircase, the music getting louder with each step and by the time he’s reached the top it’s changed from something in Spanish to Lady Gaga and is blasting so loudly that it feels like he’s at a live performance rather than in his boyfriend’s bedroom.

That’s when he finally hears the singing. Not Gaga herself, although she’s hard to ignore. No. Someone is belting out the lyrics from behind the bathroom door, slightly out of tune, but with the most passion T.K. has ever heard.

He opens the door quietly, the sound intensifying as the spray of the shower joins the fray. 

“I’M YOUR BIGGEST FAN, I’LL FOLLOW YOU UNTIL YOU LOVE ME! PAPA-PAPARAZZI!” Carlos bellows from behind the semi-frosted glass of the shower door.

T.K. crosses his arms and leans against the wall, a grin on his face as he watches the blurry silhouette of his naked boyfriend scrubbing away at his hair while he sings along. He makes it through the rest of the chorus and another verse before he turns around and lets out a yell. “Jesus Christ!”

The water turns off immediately followed quickly by the music as T.K. laughs. Carlos opens the shower door, poking his sopping wet head out. “What the hell? How long have you been standing there?” he says, clearly torn between fury and embarrassment.

“Long enough,” T.K. says, handing him a towel before returning to his position against the wall, watching appreciatively as Carlos pulls it around his waist and steps out, water glistening on his skin.

“You realize that’s really fucking creepy, right?” Carlos asks as he double checks that his towel is secure.

“I can’t believe you didn’t invite me to the concert,” T.K. says fully aware that he is smirking and enjoying every second of watching Carlos squirm.

“Yeah, well, there’s a reason for that,” Carlos says, looking down at the floor, his cheeks flushed from more than the heat of his shower.

“Do you always sing in the shower?”

“No.” But he doesn’t meet T.K.’s gaze when he says it.

“Yes,” T.K. says gleefully. “Why don’t you ever sing when I’m here?”

“Because some things are better left in private,” Carlos tells him with a glower.

“Babe, come on,” T.K. says, taking a step forward and putting his hands on Carlos’ hips just above where the towel is sitting. “I love knowing stuff like this about you. It makes me feel like you’re mine. I get to see these little parts of Carlos Reyes that other people don’t.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Unless you also put on performances in the precinct showers.”

“Definitely not,” Carlos scoffs. His hands come up to rest on T.K.’s biceps. “You really don’t think it’s weird? I know I’m not a good singer.”

T.K. kisses the tip of his nose. “It doesn’t matter. It makes you happy. And that’s all I care about.”

+ 1: Ticklish

Waking up with T.K. had been his dream for months, but he wasn’t completely surprised when it turned out not to be a reality. It turns out T.K. doesn’t wake up with anyone. In fact he barely wakes up at all. He has to be dragged out of bed and plied with coffee and a shower before he’s even remotely functional. 

When questioned about how he can wake up and immediately go to work when the alarm bells go off at the fire station, T.K. looks at him like he’s crazy and says, “That’s different.”

So Carlos contents himself with waking up beside T.K., pressing a kiss to whatever part of him is poking out from under the blankets, and then greeting him more officially when he finally stumbles out of bed usually an hour or two after Carlos.

He’s just finished his workout when he hears T.K.’s alarm going off followed quickly by a muffled thud as T.K. predictably sends his phone flying to floor in his attempts to turn it off.

Carlos smiles and wipes a towel across his forehead before stowing away his weights and jogging back upstairs. T.K. is buried under the blankets, only the top of his head poking out. “Morning,” Carlos says softly, bending over to kiss his forehead.

T.K. reaches up and catches his arm, tugging him downward. “Come back to bed,” he mumbles. 

“I’m all sweaty,” Carlos says with a laugh. “I need to go take a shower.”

“No staaay,” T.K. groans, tugging more insistently.

Carlos rolls his eyes but he concedes, sitting down on the mattress and pulling the blanket down enough to reveal T.K.’s face. “Are you going to get up?”

“It’s our day off,” T.K. tells him, eyes still tightly shut.

“It is.” Carlos leans closer, a fond smile on his face. “And if you don’t get up soon it will be over.”

He pokes T.K. in the ribs good-naturedly and immediately receives a sharp backhand across the face. “Ow!” he yells, rearing back and clutching his nose. “T.K. what the fuck?!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” T.K. yelps, and Carlos can feel him scrambling to get upright in the tangle of their sheets. “Oh my god! Are you okay? Let me see!”

He reaches for Carlos’ face, but Carlos pulls back. His nose feels like it’s been smashed into a thousand pieces, but he rubs at it experimentally and it seems to be intact. Another check shows no blood on his fingers, so he’s probably all right, but damn. It hurts. “What the hell was that for?” he asks grouchily, sending T.K. a glare.

T.K. looks sheepishly down at the sheets. “Um, well, I might be just a little bit ticklish?”

Carlos blinks at him. “No you’re not.”

T.K.’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Yes I am?”

“T.K. we’ve been together for like four months. I would know if you were ticklish.” He knows T.K.’s body intimately. Where he can touch to make him moan, to make him gasp, to make him arch his back. If T.K. were ticklish, it would have been revealed long before now. 

“It’s just that one spot on the left side of my ribs,” T.K. tells him. “If your hands start to go there I just take them and move them somewhere else. You’ve never noticed?”

Huh. Carlos sits with that for a second replaying as many of their sexual encounters as he can remember. “I guess…I guess not. Why did you hit me though?” he asks with a frown.

“Ah.” T.K. blushes. “I always move your hands because I can get a little…violent when I get tickled. It’s kind of a panic response.”

“And instead of telling me this you just waited for me to discover it by accident and nearly broke my nose in the process?”

“I kind of forgot honestly. It’s just become a habit to move your hands,” T.K. tells him.

Carlos snorts out a laugh. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my god what?” T.K. asks warily.

“Oh my god…that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Carlos says, full on laughing now. 

T.K.’s face breaks into a smile and runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “It is kind of dumb.”

Carlos leans forward and cups his chin, pulling him in for a real kiss. “You’re cute,” he says. “You and your ridiculous ticklish spot.”

“You’re cute too,” T.K. says, then wrinkles his nose. “But you kind of stink.”

“Oh I do?”

“Yeah you do.”

Carlos wraps his arms around T.K. while he yells in protest, holding him tightly as they fall onto the mattress together. It’s disgustingly adorable. And Carlos wouldn’t trade it for the world.  

#Tarlos #Glasses and Smut and Your Naked Butt #911 Lone Star #Tarlos Fic #911lsfic #Seven Sentence Sunday #Fluffy Tarlos #Boyfriend Era #Sweet boys #Boys in love #Cuteness #5+1 Fic

[scarletslippers]

if you are still doing the one sentence prompt here is one :)).

She leaned her head back against the wall of the train station waiting area, willing away the headache she could feel forming behind her eyes.

Please don't ask me how long I spent on google maps looking at train lines for this

She leaned her head back against the wall of the train station waiting area, willing away the headache she could feel forming behind her eyes. With a wince she shifts and closes her eyes, the back of the bench digging into an uncomfortable spot at her shoulder blade—a souvenir from the latest sin eater she’d freed. She hasn’t really checked, but it’s bound to be a nasty bruise. The tinny intercom crackles to life announcing that her train will be arriving in five minutes. Really, she should—

“Excuse me, are you waiting for the train to Ellsworth?”

His tone is innocent, but his wide grin is anything but when her eyes fly open to find Ace standing before her. 

“Ace,” she says breathlessly, reaching for him. Ace pulls her up more than she stands, which is good because she doesn't have the energy for much else. His arms encircle her in a tight embrace, causing her to hiss in pain when his palm meets her shoulder. 

“Nancy, what—”

“Later. I promise,” she murmurs, only holding him tighter. “You can check me over later. Right now I just wanna—” Nancy lets her actions speak instead, tucking her face further into his neck. 

He loosens his grip just slightly, dropping his arms to loop more about her waist. “Yeah, okay.”

#5 sentences is more like a loose suggestion at this point #nace #nace fanfiction #nancy drew cw #my fic #nancy and ace #writing game #1 plus five sentences

[steveseddie]

six sentence sunday

rules: post 6 sentences of an unfinished work and tag 6 people

i was tagged by @sidekick-hero thank you so much <3

“You expecting someone?” Wayne asks and Eddie’s response is a scoff.

Jesus Christ, his uncle is a saint for putting up with him.

From the couch, Eddie can’t see the door, but he can hear the voice of the person who’s on the other side when Wayne opens it.

And he jolts upright so fast when he hears it that he’s pretty sure one of his staples pops off.

“Good morning, Mr. Munson, is Eddie home? Um. That’s a stupid question, of course he’s home.” Steve chuckles nervously. Steve. “Is he awake?”

“He’s awake, son, but I gotta warn you, he’s in a pissy mood today,” Wayne’s gruff voice replies.

i'm still getting to know people around here so i'm tagging @thefreakandthehair and everyone else who wants to share!

#this is from a 5+1 fic where steve keeps making up excuses to visit eddie after everything #i'm very excited about it! hopefully i can finish it soon! #tag game #steddie #six sentence sunday

[honestlydarkprincess]

Seven(ish) Sentence Sunday!

tagged by @buddiearemydads, @ebdaydreamer, @rottenmarigolds, @wikiangela, and @cowboy-buddie 💘

we're finally making progress on eddie 5+1 dates! and this is waaaay more than seven sentences but i really liked this scene so here ya go

“What’s wrong, Buck?” Christopher asked around a mouthful of pizza.

“Don’t talk while you’re chewing, Chris. You could choke,” Buck chided gently and Chris gave him an apologetic look. “Nothing’s wrong, I’m just tired.”

Chris made sure to chew all his food and swallow before asking, “Are you sure? You looked sad.”

“I’m okay, I promise,” Buck replied, giving Christopher a reassuring smile before shoving his slice of pizza into his mouth. Christopher giggled and turned his attention back to his dinner.

Buck felt his smile drop. He’d have to keep a better handle on his expressions then, if Chris was already noticing that he wasn’t exactly hyped that Eddie was going to start dating. Buck wasn’t sure that Chris has made that connection yet but he was a smart kid who easily picked up on patterns. If he started getting sad every time that Eddie went out on a date, eventually Christopher was going to put two and two together.

Buck was fully aware that he could just confess to Eddie and tell him that he wishes Eddie would date him. But that was easier said than done and every time he tried, he chickened out.

“Sorry about that,” Eddie said, coming back into the living room and sitting down in his designated spot. He grabbed his plate off the coffee table and sat back, taking a large bite and saying, “What are we watching?”

“Dad, don’t talk while you’re chewing. You could choke,” Christopher scolded and Eddie gave him a sheepish look. Buck looked amused and Eddie rose an eyebrow at him, silently asking him what he was laughing at. Buck shook his head, waving him off.

no pressure tagging: @bigfootsmom, @maygrantgf, @moonlightbuckleys, @transboybuckley, @transbuck, @greyacebuckley, @rogerzsteven, @devirnis, @monsterrae1, @heartbeatdiaz, @alyxmastershipper, @bibuddie, and @911onabc @queerbuckleys 💕

#seven sentence sunday #eddie 5+1 dates #jess.writes #my writing #buddie #buddie wip #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #the buckley diaz family #911 #911 fox #911 abc #911 fic #911 wip

[bigassbowlingballhead]

Sentence Sunday 3/24/2024

so many early tags today from: @getmehighonmagic @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @magicandarchery @eusuntgratie @cha-melodius

I actually managed to get more writing done this weekend with my sister here than I thought I would. However my friends, Alex and Henry still remain simmering on the back burner, I'm still reading them but the weewoos have taken full residence on the primary writing burner (you know the one, the front right burner where you do most of your cooking)

have some panic-ie eddie from the latest wip.

His stomach drops. He hasn’t heard from her in months, not since… well not since they broke up, and things weren’t exactly left on the best of terms.  The ceiling starts to loom over him like a hydraulic press ready to flatten him into a Eddie pancake, a panic-cake he thinks Buck would suggest, the thought makes him chuckle but ultimately he knows jokes won’t help.  His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth and backs of his teeth so he reaches for his beer, his clammy hand nearly makes him drop the sweaty beer bottle. His chest tightens and his breathing strains. Blood rushes to his cheeks and the tips of his ears, every muscle is on fire and his mind races.  What could she want, everything that needed to be said has already been said. It’s hardly past ten, it’s too early for a drunk dial. Does she want to tell him she misses him, does she want him back?  Oh god, he’s going to pass out. 

no pressure tags for my friends @sparklepocalypse @anincompletelist @nocoastposts @littlemisskittentoes @heysweetheart-writes @sunnysideprince @affectionatelyrs @happiness-of-the-pursuit @captainjunglegym @lostcol @onward--upward @wordsofhoneydew @sheepywritesfics @groversimhadri @inexplicablymine @cactusdragon517 @firenati0n

#six sentence sunday #jon writes now? #it's another buddie wip #buddie fic #untitled buddie 5+1

[straightupsickfics]

hi friend <3 for the sentence prompt meme, for GO: "Despite knowing he could be anywhere in the world--in the universe--Crowley will always choose the bookshop." 🖤

this is literally not five sentences but it also didn't take me a year so <3

****

Despite knowing that he could be anywhere in the world — in the universe — Crowley will always choose the bookshop. He doesn't let himself think about it often, the "H word," but when he does indulge himself, usually when he's feeling particularly terrible, he'll call it what it is: Home.

It's where he always ends up when he's ill like this, damp with feverish sweat and weary with bone-deep exhaustion, his nose running like a tap. Even he couldn't have invented such a damnable thing as this, the so-called common cold.

But the bookshop is where he ends up when something good happens, too, and when nothing much at all is happening, and that's what home is, isn't it? Somewhere to go when nothing is happening?

Maybe he's delirious.

Crowley's swiping at his relentlessly runny nose when he steps into the bookshop, still sniffling futilely when Aziraphale makes his way over at the sound of the door, his face quickly shifting from delighted surprise to concern once he takes a closer look at him.

"Hello, Angel," Crowley says, wincing at how nasal his voice sounds.

Aziraphale just makes a soft tutting sound, reaching up and plucking Crowley's sunglasses from his face. It's a near immediate relief to be free of them, but the warm shop lighting combined with his already over-sensitive eyes send him teetering over the edge from sniffly to sneezing in a matter of seconds.

"hh’itsSCH! Eh’sschIEW! hhh’ISCHih! Ngh..." Crowley sniffles over and over again, though it doesn't do much good.

Aziraphale looks at him sympathetically, murmuring an apology. "It's always good to see you, my dear, but you do sound like you've seen better days," he says, handing him a checkered handkerchief from his back pocket.

It's soft, and smells like the shop and Aziraphale, and Crowley wastes no time burying his face into it.

It's a relief, just being here. It's a relief that he doesn't have to explain, that the shop never changes, that Crowley knows Aziraphale will fuss over his hellish cold in that quiet way of his that's just shy of being too much. Though on second thought, that last one probably has more to do with who is doing the fussing, rather than where it's happening, but Crowley pushes it to the back of his mind.

"I've got some tea in the back, and a new record from Maggie's shop... could be just the thing, if you feel like staying?" the angel offers, blue eyes smiling up at Crowley's.

He always feels like staying, which Aziraphale knows, another small, unspoken kindness.

At Crowley's nod, he guides him gently to the couch at the back of the shop, hand warm and comforting at Crowley's back. There's a blanket draped over the back of the couch like it's waiting for him, and Aziraphale's book is face down, begging to be picked back up. Somewhere, the record player spins something soft and vaguely familiar.

Aziraphale says something about tea, looks about ready to go bustling off somewhere to get it, but Crowley reaches out, stops him before he can go anywhere.

"Just... sit with me a minute, angel?" He asks, surprising even himself. But his nose really is giving him hell, his whole head fuzzy with congestion and fever, and Aziraphale is so warm all the time...

Aziraphale pauses and smiles, drops down beside him on the couch. "Of course, dear boy," he agrees.

If Crowley falls asleep with his head on his angel's shoulder, head full of hazy, confusing thoughts about how maybe home can be a bookshop and the angel inside of it, well, he's pretty sure said angel is already in on that particular secret.

#softersteve #my fic #good//omens #i love one (1) demon and his emotional support angel #5 sentence prompts

[familyofpaladins]

Me: I have this idea for a fic! I think it will be about 9-10k words! A good amount! Not too little not too much!

*10k words later*

Me: .... I'm only half done. Haha... ha O_O

#Hhnnnghfkdjdkd #I'm actually not entielrybsure how far done I am because I keep skipping around which part I'm writing #It's got 7 chapters. Chp 2 is 90% done(mostly needs editing) chp 1 is.... I think around 40% done. I'm not sure #I think chp 4 is around 75% done but I might end up writing more there and it will get longer. Or it will be short and its almost done #Chp 5 is about 70-80 done. #Chapter 3 is only 20% done #And 6 and 7 have like two sentences in them #(Its a 5+1 fic but also has a prologue chapter at the beginning #Which is the only reason I'm able to bebop around so much and know how done each one is) #Chapter 2 is so funny too. Because I wa like. man this is going to be a short chapter. I need to add a little more to match the others #It's the longest one so far #🙃 #Okay but I am excited about this #I hope I finish this #Writing woes

[noxsoulmate]

Got a little more writing done, cleaned up a whole scene in the Tarlos Whump fic, and started another - and since TK Whump got the second most votes on my poll, have a few sentences from that scene 🥰

Thanks for tagging me, @heartstringsduet, @catanisspicy, @chaotictarlos, @detective-giggles, and @carlos-in-glasses 😘

Nancy tries so hard to control the jiggling of her leg, tries to stop herself from worrying her lip bloody, but it seems she just can’t. Every time she tries, she hears the sound again. The sound of delicate bones breaking, followed by an agonized yelp. She’s heard all types of cries over the years – hazard of the job, of course – but she’s sure she’ll hear this one in her nightmares for the rest of her life. “Nance.” Her head snaps up, looking over at her partner who… is actually smiling at her. “Nancy, if you don’t stop biting your lip, you’ll bleed any second now. And your leg-jiggling is kinda hellaciously annoying.” He says it with the sweetest smile and a hint of teasing – but even if he’d been an ass about it, Nancy would’ve still stopped and apologized. “Sorry,” she murmurs, sitting up straighter. His hand is suddenly in hers and for a second, she flinches. Until she realizes that it’s his good hand and then she grabs onto it, holding it like a lifeline as she looks back up at him, tears finally welling up in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.” They both know she’s no longer apologizing for her nervous ticks. And still, TK’s smile doesn’t slip. If possible, it grows even softer. “You have nothing to apologize for.” “But I–” “It was an accident.” “That got you into the hospital.”

Tagging:

@ravens-words, @sgirl18, @bonheur-cafe, @firstprince-history-huh, @rangergurlgleek1211, @shadesofdeviant, @actuallysara, @paperstorm, @wtfuckevenknows, @lightningboltreader, @meditating-honey-badger, @just-inside-her, @alidravana, @morganaspendragonss, @lire-casander, @otter-love-asl, @ramblingdisaster73, @first-kanaphan, @xtltokio, @buckybarnesalways, @mangacat201

#tarlos #911 lone star #noxy writes #tk strand #nancy gillian #tk & nancy #tk whump #5+1 tarlos whump fic #seven sentence sunday

[zephyr-draws]

musings on insects, isolation, and how much can change when you're not looking

#i started this like a month ago #and finished it today because i was laughing at how much the sentence 'i'm going bug hunting with my partner' would kill pre-college me #but yeah. i'm still learning to accept that i'm not alone anymore. #learning to love insects was easy. it's a lot harder to learn to love myself #in the wise words of a fic my friend wrote: it sucks so bad sometimes. but even when it sucks it's better. #personal #insects #also all of the scenes in the middle two pages are specific memories that have contributed the most to why neither of those things are true #1. meeting my partner in an entomology class i took on a whim #2. the fateful 8 hour dnd conversation on a field trip for that class that started our friendship #3. trip to a museum (i also could have drawn the part of that trup where i got to hold a cockroach but i don't have a picture of it) #(and i really like that picture of her) #4. seeing a cockroach on the way to class and both of us yelling 'oh my god a little guy!' #5. working at an insect collection together (oh god the things our boss has probably heard) #6. seeing a boxelder bug on the way to see a movie together (we always saw insects when we spent time together) #7. seeing fireflies for the first time when i visited her over the summer :D

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

several sentences sunday

tagged by @giddyupbuck @wikiangela @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @bekkachaos @rogerzsteven @aroeddiediaz @wh0re-behavi0r @elvensorceress

thanks lovelies! <3

more calls fic because i can't share anything else asdfghjkl and this is actually one of my favorite parts

“Yeah?” Buck asks and for some reason he sounds like a little kid, nervous and bashful about how he will be received.

Eddie blinks and settles more comfortably on his side, curling his legs up towards his torso, and imagines Buck lying next to him. He’s not sure why. It’s not something he has ever done or considered before, but also, it isn’t unfamiliar.

They sleep in bunks next to each other at the firehouse, so seeing Buck across from him as he sleeps has happened so often that it has become comforting, but this is different.

This is Eddie picturing Buck on the same couch as him, which probably wouldn’t even be able to hold both of them comfortably, imagining how their knees would knock together and what Buck’s eyes would look like in this light and how Buck might breathe as they touched.

Eddie has never shared space like that with someone other than Shannon.

Guilt ripples through him, cold and sharp and acidic, blunt teeth gnawing on his nerve endings and trying to numb him enough that the automatic processes of life just dissipate.

He pushes it away, shoving it down as far as it can go, and locks it up, throwing it into a dark corner that he doesn’t plan on ever examining again.

“Yeah,” Eddie finally replies, whispering now because this moment suddenly feels sacred and fragile, liquid glass surrounding them in a golden cocoon that can be too easily shifted, and if he talks too loud he might break it, cause it to pool on the floor and run away from them, spooking himself or Buck and that’s the last thing he wants right now.

“Yeah, I–” he pauses, rolling around words in his mouth that feel like sharpened knives and silk ribbons, finally deciding that he can cut himself and then wrap a soft bandage around the hurt just to offer Buck a little more truth tonight. “I just wanna hear you. Think I need that.” Truth truth truth.

tagging @spaceprincessem @bucktits @shitouttabuck @911onabc @lemonzestywrites @try-set-me-on-fire @sibylsleaves @messyhairdiaz @transboybuckley @rewritetheending @jeeyuns @sunshinediaz @loserdiaz @buddierights @monsterrae1 @devirnis @bvckandeddie @colonoscopys @hoodie-buck @eowon @thewolvesof1998 @bigfootsmom @honestlydarkprincess @shyaudacity and anyone else who wants to share!

#buddie #911 #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley #buddie wip #911 abc #buck x eddie #911 fic #5+1 calls #ryan writes #several sentence sunday

[jamiesfootball]

🌹

"He is drooling on me." "Let it go, Jan." "No." "Boyo's clearly knackered. Pretty sure Roy kept them out all night." "Yes, I can confirm that he did. He smells like dirty gym socks rolled in dirt."

#5+1 sleepy fic #the 5+1 jamie falling asleep pavlovian fic #I actually think i've landed on a name for this one #also #jaaaaaaaaaaack #you are smart and talented and everybody wishes they had your panache for crafting a sentence #it's me I'm everybody #ask box #ask game

[scarletslippers]

"I have evidence that a ghost took your sandwich."

You're the best and ily

"I have evidence that a ghost took your sandwich." 

Nancy blinks a slow double take, looking down at her empty plate and then back up at Ace’s oh-so-innocent face. “I see. And did you happen to get a good look at this ghost, by chance?”

“It was kind of chaotic. You know how ghosts are—all that moaning and groaning.” Ace waves his hand vaguely in the direction of her now-absent sandwich. 

“Right,” Nancy says with a nod, pursing her lips. “And was this ghost potentially around my height with long dark hair, and ‘moaning and groaning’ about all that she needs to get done for the Underground Historical Society?” 

Ace’s eyes dart to the door, then back to Nancy’s face, managing to keep his expression smooth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. The Historical Society burned down, and I’ve heard nothing about some sort of replacement.”  

At that moment, Ace’s phone buzzes on the table with an incoming text, Bess’s message on display. Tell Nancy I’m sorry and thanks for the sandwich!

Nancy crosses her arms and cocks her hip, looking back up at Ace. One corner of his mouth twitches. “Want half of mine?”

Send me 1 sentence, and I’ll write the next 5+!

#obviously more than 5 because I've never heard of restraint #nace #nace fanfiction #nancy drew cw #nancy and ace #my fic #writing game #1 plus five sentences

[merthurians-prat-and-idiot]

Here's a belated (shhh) seven sentence sunday!

A lil ballum 5+1 fic I was working on recently :)

🌻

The first time it happens is purely an accident.

Callum's rushing around the flat, tripping over jeans abandoned by the sofa, bashing into the coffee table as he pulls on his suit jacket and almost stacking it into the tv when he tries to tie his tie and put his shoes on at the same time.

His phone buzzes 3 times in quick succession in his pocket, like an angry wasp trying to get free.

"Cal!" Ben calls from the bedroom, his face appearing in the doorway with a fond grin.

"Calm down babe- or your paramedic interview will be carried out in the back of an ambulance when you crash through the window with all your stumblin!" He teases.

"I'm so late Ben- I can't blow it before they've even met me I-" he hops on one foot, yanking his left shoe off from where he'd been trying to jam it onto the wrong one.

"C'mere"

Callum walks closer, drawn as he always is to his boyfriend.

#c'mere my absolute beloved!! #also this is eight setences but shh #hope y'all like this! #the 5+1 does have a theme but im not gonna say just yet #i have 2 of them done so far #ballum #ballum fic #ballum fic rec #ballum fanfiction #ballum fanfic #ben mitchell/callum highway #ben mitchell x callum highway #ee #eastenders #merthurians prat and idiot #my writing #seven sentence sunday

[chicgeekgirl89]

One Sentence Friday

Thanks so much to @bonheur-cafe for the tag! 

From a new 5+1:

His eyes find Carlos on the bed and he immediately chokes on his toothpaste and has to rush back to the sink to spit it out.

Tagging @ejzah, @irispurpurea, @wanna-be-bold

#Tarlos #911 Lone Star #5+1 Fic #One Sentence Friday

[singsweetmelodies]

You knew this was coming but I want your twist on it - Piarles + lipstick marks 💋

tia, you knew exactly what you were doing here, and i adore you for it. 👌💋sequel to this.

It's half-way through the drivers' briefing when Seb turns around to catch Charles' eye, and Charles is immediately on his guard, because he looks innocent - and if there's one thing Charles learned in their two years as teammates, it's that Sebastian Vettel is never innocent.

Sure enough, Seb's eyes sparkle as he asks, "Why exactly were you and Pierre so late today?"

Charles forces himself not to blush, because if he gives Seb any reason to tease him, he won't hear the end of it for weeks - which is why he keeps his voice forcibly steady and casual as he replies, "Oh, nothing much, we just accidentally made a wrong turn on the way here."

Seb makes a soft hmmm sound, like he might actually accept the answer (and it is a believable answer, because, well, it's them) and Charles is just about to blow out a relieved breath when Seb turns back around, lightning-fast and with wickedly bright blue eyes. "I suppose the lipstick marks all over Pierre's neck are a complete accident, too?" he asks smoothly, and Charles flushes redder than that damn lipstick, and regrets every life decision that led him up to this point - except then Pierre catches his eye, and winks, lazy and knowing, and though Charles' blush only deepens, he knows he could never truly regret even a moment of this.

(send me a ship + a one word prompt and i will write a 5 sentence fic about it)

#5 sentence fic thing #piarles #piarles fic #10 x 16 #myfic #i have to say -- my fav piarles girlies were sharing one (1) braincell today and i absolutely LOVE it #these two prompts about piarles + lipstick came through i kid you not within TWO seconds of each other #so i just HAD to link them up lolz #hope you like it 💋