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#drabble

He doesn’t bother with brushes and uses his hands to guide the paint, to send it swirling and looping across the floor in wide messy strokes. He’ll have to clean it later, it’ll get sticky and dirty long before it dries enough to stay, but for now he’s content to smear the colors together in abstract shapes, in pretty little patterns that he find pleasing in the moment. 

There’s gold and green and red and every other color in between, but he finds himself gravitating towards the blues most of all. Deep and serene sapphire, bright cerulean and sweet indigo, the same shade he can taste on his tongue and in the tears sliding down his cheeks. He pours it on the floor in buckets, as though he can somehow transfer his own emotions out through his fingers and fold it neatly into the paint splattered all over his hands, his clothes, his face, as though he can force the blue out of him and forget this tight feeling right where his soul should be. 

A tear falls from his paint-smeared chin and sends color spiderwebbing out with the running water, leaking across the floor in a beautiful little starburst so much prettier than the anguish which birthed it. He would laugh if he could manage anything other than a sob right now, but as it is he only blinks back more tears and grabs more paint, dips both hands right into the bucket and pulls them out dripping before he returns to his work with wild, desperate energy, tears and paint and bittersweet indigo mixing on his tongue. 


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A lovely follower who wishes to remain anonymous requested Pegging with Leonard McCoy x Cis Female Reader.  And don’t worry darlin’ - your English is perfectly fine!!! <3 <3 

“Just relax for me, Len,” you murmur softly.  “I promise it’ll feel good.”

You slowly slide your finger deeper inside his rectum, watching it disappear up to the second knuckle.  You can tell from the way he bucks and groans under you that he’s enjoying having his prostate stroked, but he’s still tighter than you’d like for the strap-on.  With your free hand, you reach under him and grasp his hard, straining cock, giving it a gentle squeeze and rub.

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to get it in,” Leonard pants.

You slide a second finger in alongside the first and he groans, pushing back against your hand and taking you in as deep as you’ll go.  

“I think you’ll do just fine,” you assure him.  “Do you trust me?”

He nods, not trusting his voice as your fingers pass over his prostate again.  You can feel his cock throbbing in your hand and you smile, scissoring your fingers inside of him a little to stretch him that extra little bit.  You take your time, working a third finger in eventually, feeling your own clit pulse with arousal.  

When you finally think he’s ready, you pull your fingers out, removing the glove you’re wearing and tossing it aside to dispose of later.  You gently squeeze his buttocks, positioning yourself behind him and guiding the tip of the dildo to his opening.  You rub it against his anus, teasing until he starts pressing back into you a little; a wordless encouragement for you to go ahead.

With one hand braced on his hip and the dildo grasped firmly in the other, you press forward.  You encounter a little bit of resistance and you lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to the middle of Len’s back, murmuring a reminder for him to relax.  Another little push and you finally feel his anus give, allowing the head of the dildo to slide in easily.

Leonard groans softly as you still, giving him a chance to get used to the stretch.  Now that you’re in, your other hand is free to touch him too and you take advantage of the quiet moment to gently caress his back and run your fingernails along his shoulder blade.  He shivers, dropping his head and breathing hard.  He’s gorgeous in his vulnerability and you smile, pressing forward gently.

He meets the movement with a push of his own, sinking down onto the strap-on.  You watch the full length of it slowly disappear inside of him and you moan as you bottom out, feeling your own orgasm already starting to mount.  You slip your hand from his hip, down to between your legs, and rub your clit as you slowly start to move in short, easy strokes, bumping his prostate with every pass.

“How’s that feel, baby?”  You ask.

The only thing Leonard can do is moan in response, and it’s then that you know this experiment has been a success.  Without any further thought, you lose yourself in the act, watching the muscles in Leonard’s back ripple as you focus on bringing him to orgasm.

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@stulteholoserica​ sent: I want the K!

SEND ME ‘I WANT THE K’ AND I’LL GENERATE A NUMBER

  • 9: Jawline Kiss

After having an exhausting day with Elizabeth–showing her around Iwatodai–Fuuka felt herself ready to collapse from the heat itself. She loved Elizabeth’s enthusiasm; it was beyond contagious, and yet she could use a nap right about now. However, she remembered that Elizabeth wanted to surprise her with something. She flopped down on the bench, while she was waiting for the gift, and closed her eyes.

“I wished I had her energy…”

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@crxssfxre# asked:  ʌ: comfort after a nightmare (Echo for whichever muse you wish)

.

Everything was gone. It wasn’t removed properly and carefully. Ripped away, stripped from her spine. It didn’t hurt, but she couldn’t…she was sluggish, heavy. Everything ached the longer she stumbled around, trying to find help, the more exhausted she became. It was growing harder to move without the implants on her spine. She needed them to function and they knew it. They fucking knew it but who told? Reaper. He was the only one that could have and shit they were coming. They–

Sombra bolted upright with a shout to a hand nudging her awake.

Echo. It was only Echo, and her implants were still there. Could the bot even comfort others? Did she know how? Still, if anyone knew what it’d be like to feel useless without some aspect of their tech…

She launched herself at Echo and hugged her tightly.

It felt childish to just hug her like this but…who else could she go to?

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I got you, babe <3

“Can you really blame me?” and “Are you leaving?”

“You was the one sayin’ we had to stop and look who’s back,” Vanessa boasted, snuggling closer to Brooke’s side.

“Can you really blame me?” Brooke chuckled, voice light.

Vanessa giggled. “Nah, I’m pretty tempting,” she said, thrusting her hips exaggeratedly.

Brooke rolled her eyes and swatted Vanessa’s ass once, causing the younger girl to shriek dramatically and bury her head further into the sheets and Brooke.

They stayed like that for a while longer. Brooke trailing her fingertips lightly over Vanessa’s shoulders and collarbone and abdomen. Vanessa couldn’t help the smile on her face, no matter how much she wanted to pretend it didn’t affect her.

Friends with benefits they had promised. They were young and single. They both liked girls. They were good friends. It made sense.

And it had been fine in the beginning. Totally fine. It wasn’t like Vanessa had been crushing on Brooke since they met freshman year of college. It wasn’t like Vanessa wanted any excuse to be close to Brooke. It wasn’t like Vanessa was scared this was the only way she could ever have Brooke.

No.

It was fine.

And if Vanessa’s heart ached in her chest as Brooke started pulling on her clothes, she would say nothing about it.

Well, not nothing.

“Are you leaving?” She asked, knowing full well the answer.

“Yeah, I got an early flight tomorrow.”

Vanessa shook her head. “We in quarantine, ma, you can’t use that excuse no more.”

Brooke froze with her shirt over her head, pants pulled up but unbuttoned, she turned around to face Vanessa.

“I’ve got a girl,” She said simply. “Or I’m gonna have a girl.”

Vanessa’s stomach dropped.

“So we really can’t…” she gestured toward the bedding, “anymore.”

Vanessa nodded without really processing. 

“What’s she like?” she asked, barely holding back the bitterness of her words.

Brooke sighed. “She’s great.”

Which was Brooke speak for: Nothing like you.

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Byleth woke with a pleasant ache in her limbs, a warm arm thrown over her waist. She rolled over pressing more of herself against his body. Byleth sniffled, brushing her partner’s hair over his shoulder and out of her way.

Her head bounced lightly as he chuckled at her, causing Byleth to frown as she was further disturbed from falling asleep again.

“Byleth,” he whispered, his own fingers brushing back her hair. “Are you planning on waking up at any point today?”

“No,” Byleth answered, voice muffled against his chest. “Just sleep.”

“Byleth,” he said again. She felt his fingers lightly tap against her chin, and murmured under her breath as he tilted her chin up. All of her annoyance fled as he pressed his lips against hers, bringing with it all the intensity and heat he carried with him.

Byleth sighed and finally opened her eyes, staring back into amber orbs. “Good morning, Felix,” she greeted, stretching against him. 

“Afternoon, actually,” he pointed out rather smugly. “Seems that move of mine managed to wear you out more than I thought.”

Byleth joking shoved at his shoulder, forcing Felix onto his back. “If that is how you feel about it, perhaps I should see if you have any more tricks up your sleeves.”

Felix raised his eyebrows, nodding his head towards where Byleth had pinned his hands against the mattress. “As you can see, I have no sleeves at the moment.”

“Ah, so no tricks then. How very disappointing.”

A shiver went through her as Felix’s eyes narrowed. She could feel him rising to the challenge against her backside, and rolled her hips back against him. His eyes fluttered closed for a brief second before snapping open once more. He surged forward, breaking Byleth’s hold and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her back down onto the bed on top of him.

“Oh you are in so much trouble,” he whispered against her lips. 

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(I’m writing 100 word drabbles for the themes)

Luke wiped away another gust of snow with a gloved wrist.  Something felt off.  Kit Valent’s voice crackled over the helmet comm.  

“It’s late, Luke. Patrol’s over.  Head back.”

Luke’s tauntaun apparently agreed, jerking its head in a baseward direction.  “It’s all right, girl,” he soothed. 

“We’re right behind you,” he answered Kit, before following his instincts over the snowdrift to the sight of an abandoned baby tauntaun.  Shivering.  On autopilot, Luke dismounted, yanking his saddle blanket free.  Twenty minutes and two frightened nips later, he set off with the rescue for Echo Base, wondering if Threepio could play nanny.

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jen27nyAnswer

Pepper is a bit nervous when Happy stops the car in front of her at the entrance of Stark Industries. Tony texted her this morning, letting her know that there was a bit of a situation with Peter, but not going into any specifics, and that he was going to be a bit late. Then, some time later, he texted her that he’s on his way and that she should wait outside.

She’d been under the impression that Tony would get out of the car once the vehicle stops, but Happy nods to the backseats, the universal sign that she should get in. As soon as she climbs into the car, Pepper gets greeted by an excited Peter who is strapped into his booster seat. On his other side sits Tony, not in his Armani suit, but in a simple t-shirt and jeans, sunglasses and an old baseball cap in his hands.

The beginning of a stress-induced headache is already forming.

“What’s happening?” Pepper asks as soon as she closed the door behind her, and Happy starts driving again.

“Peter and I had an argument this morning, but we compromised,” Tony explains in an almost nonchalant voice. “And now we’re going to Disneyland.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“We’re going to Disneyland. Right, buddy?”

“Yes!” Peter cheers excitingly, clapping in his hands.

Pepper can’t share that excitement. “Tony, you can’t be serious. There are conferences –“

“Which will be turned into conference calls,” he says, waving his phone in the air. “Happy will look after Peter when I make the calls. And it’s not like there are tons of them, anyway, it’s like two of them.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Because I want you to come, too!” Peter says, reaching his hand out for Pepper and charming her with his best smile.

How can she say no to that?

Surprisingly, the day goes relatively smoothly. Pepper still doesn’t know what the argument between Tony and Peter was about that led them to the theme park, but they seem happy enough now. It’s a bit crowded, which isn’t that surprising, but nobody seems to recognize Tony. They go on several rides, Happy and Pepper (who feels a bit overdressed because she’s the only one still in business attire) even joining them a few times. But mostly, Pepper falls back, observing the pair being happy and ordinary.

The first conference call goes without a hitch. Happy and Peter go onto a nearby ride while Tony and Pepper sit in a relatively quiet corner. Tony is on unusually good behavior during the call, probably because he knows he’ll get back to Peter fast if there are no problems.

It would’ve been too good to be true if the day went without a small disaster.  

The second conference call doesn’t go as smooth as the first one. Pepper can see Tony getting antsy, not liking that Peter is out of his sight at such a busy place, so she does her best to help by pulling up the statistics and contracts they’re arguing about, and trying to keep Tony calm.

When it’s finally over, Tony quickly walks over to the ride Happy and Peter are supposed to be at.

But they only see Happy, looking around frantically.

Pepper can feel her heart drop at the same time as Tony mutters: “This better not be fucking happening.” A part of her wants to remind him that he shouldn’t swear around so many children, but she knows there are way more important things right now.

“Where is he?” Tony hisses as soon as they’re close enough for Happy to hear them.

“I don’t know,” he answers. His usual calm and professional composure is cracked, and Pepper can’t blame him. She feels her own panic build up in her chest. “I looked away for one second and then he was gone.”

“You don’t look away,” Tony growls again. “Never look away.”

“I know. I’m sorry, boss.”

Tony doesn’t answer that, too preoccupied with the worry and panic that is undoubtedly taking a hold of him. And a worried and panicking Tony is not a subtle, low-profile Tony. “Hey,” Pepper says, grabbing his hand before he can run off, squeezing it briefly, “we’ll find him. He’ll be okay.”

For a second, Tony just looks at her and she sees his mask of confidence slip, sees how truly scared he is of losing his son. She squeezes his hand again, but when she wants to let go, he actually holds on to her with an iron grip, like he can’t stomach the thought of losing someone else.

Pepper’s heart skips a beat, but she doesn’t comment on it.

It doesn’t take them too long to find Peter, which they are all very thankful for. Nobody of them knew how much longer they could pretend to be calm, especially Tony understandably seemed like a ticking time bomb, just waiting to go off if someone so much as looks at him funny.

“There!” Happy yells, pointing over to their left, where Peter is chatting with Aladdin, looking like he has the time of his life.

“Peter!” Tony lets go of Pepper’s hand to run over to his son, Happy and Pepper hot on his heels.

Peter turns around and smiles as he sees them, completely oblivious to their panic. “Daddy! I found Aladdin!” The boy has been pretty obsessed with Aladdin the last few weeks. He probably wandered off once he got a glimpse of his favorite thief/fake prince.

Tony doesn’t answer until he picks his son up and presses a kiss against his cheek, the tension and worry finally melting away. “I can see that,” he says, “but you can’t walk off like that, you hear me? You really scared me.”

“Sorry,” Peter apologizes. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Just don’t do it again, okay?”

Peter nods solemnly. “Okay, I promise.” Then he looks back to Aladdin. “Can I still get a picture with him?”

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Day 6 for Ouma Month: Talentswap AU / Friendships / Pranks

Some platonic oumiu, Kokichi and Miu doing some hang outs at her apartment.

Most of the time when they hung out at Miu’s apartment, they ended up pulling out their handheld games, lapsing into silence as they played in each other’s presence. Kokichi had laid out along the length of the couch, his feet raised up onto the arm rest and his head pillowed in Miu’s lap. She complained, predictably, and he shot back just as expected, but neither made an effort to change their situation.

Hours passed like that, each of them absorbed into their respective games and comfortable with the casual contact.

Suddenly, Miu jolted in her seat.

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Snippet

“What are you worried about now?”

Kyler gave me an offended look. I almost rolled my eyes at him.

“You don’t know how to give up on people. It’s your greatest pitfall.” He was really getting on my nerves. With my heart racing I pulled out my strongest card.

“I didn’t give up on you either. And I was right.”

His face remained controlled, but his eyes widened a little. A beat of silence stretched between us.

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Good point.” Wes in comparison wasn’t doing this out of his free will. “You were worse.”

Wip tag list:

@thewalkingnerdx @eluari @kosmosian-quills @kittensartswriting @cilly-the-writer @beanenigma @this-is-where-i-write-stuff @sybil-writes @mjmnorwood @stories-by-rie @fields-of-ink @writingwithhotchocolate  @sunlight-and-starskies  @skwilliterate @mudtomagic @lyssthewriter @missbrunettebarbie-writer

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@dxfiedfxte​ sent: “I want the K”

SEND ME ‘I WANT THE K’ AND I’LL GENERATE A NUMBER.

7.) Romantic Kiss

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“Minato.” She pulled on his sleeve as they were leaving Tartarus, making sure they were the only two left behind everyone, as he turned to face her. A small look of concern on his face as she felt a bit hesitant all of a sudden. It was just a few weeks ago where Takaya and Jin fell to their supposedly deaths. And then, just less than a week ago, Junpei almost died as Chidori offered her life for his in exchange. They just started to date; Fuuka felt tears springing up in her eyes again as she looked up at him.

“Can you promise me…that no matter what happens, you won’t die for me?”

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When I die, don’t lock my memories in physical things.

Things break, and that makes me sad

Don’t think of my face, or my name, or the smell of my hair when you finally open the door to my room

Don’t remember me when you watch that show, or the movie that made me cry on your shoulder

Don’t think of my smile, don’t imagine my laugh

Don’t think about me

Let me go

Let my memory fade

Because I deal with grief by not dealing with it

By forgetting

And there is nothing more cruel

you could do to me

Than remember me

When I wouldn’t remember you

I am not the great person

That the colours of your eulogy will paint

I am not a beautiful soul and I will not be in peace

I was never a joy to be around and I never will be again

I was never kind, I hated smiling at strangers, I never wanted to talk to people

I was not a nice person I was never talented so don’t exploit the word friend, you won’t mean it anymore

Because death is nothing

It isn’t heaven or hell, warm or cold, pale or bright

I will not look down and smile at how well you preserve the idea of me

So let me rot, and

With my flesh, burn your memories too

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KCBINGO2020 (@klaroline-events) - Fashion

Turn to the Left

There had been some trouble in tracking him down, the reclusive photographer known simply as Niklaus. Caroline had been hoping to take her fashion line to the next level, but the elite fashion crowd had their reservations about the new, peppy blonde attempting to make it big. Coming from a small town like Mystic Falls didn’t exactly wow them.

Nonetheless, Caroline was prepared to do anything to get her name out there and if that meant tracking down a man who had gone off the radar ten years ago, then so be it. All Caroline had was a blurry photo from god knows how long ago in a club that had been shut down for years, but she did some thorough digging and here he was in a studio in Paris. The building was nothing special, but the music inside called her up the stairs to a wide open door.

It was a surprise to her when she was met with a mountain of paintings. Were these works of art the cause of his disappearance? Was he so lost in other interests that he abandoned the fashion industry? She pondered the idea with a flutter of her lashes, the beautiful faces of his muses staring back at her.

Caroline weaved through the maze of canvases, the sound of Beethoven’s Fur Elise floating through the loft. He had an eye for fashion like no other, but the brush strokes that curved along the subjects’ bodies were hypnotising. As she turned a sharp corner, a few stray editorial shots caught her eye, the unmistakable angle and lighting of Niklaus’ work hard to miss.

She stopped to admire them, her fingers grazing the edge of one photo. He knew just how to pose the model, how to show off the intricate shapes and colours of the dress. It was exactly why she wanted him to capture her designs, that and the fact that the whole industry revered him.

Caroline hesitated when she took the final turn. His back was facing her, his attention dedicated to the easel in front of him. She swallowed an instinctive breath when his shoulder muscles tensed. He was a lot younger than she had imagined.

“You’re trespassing,” he stated simply, his greeting catching her by surprise. “I suppose I am to blame for leaving my studio so unguarded.” She slowly edged forward, bracing the shiver that ran down her spine when he turned to view her. His calm demeanour spread into an expectant grin as he questioned, “Who are you?”

Caroline stared blankly for a moment. The blurry photo she had in her possession definitely didn’t do him justice. His hair was a mess of sandy blonde curls and the stubble on his chiselled jaw was stained with red paint. She took a deep breath and began to recite her carefully crafted introduction, “My name is Caroline Forbes. I’m a fashion designer— well, trying to be one. Getting a spot in one of the big events is a lot harder than it looks and the organisers can be the biggest assho—“

Though Niklaus retained his smug expression, he sighed, “As captivating as you are, please get to the point.”

Caroline flushed at the tender notes in his voice. “Well,” she cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. “I want you to photograph my line.”

“Is that a request, sweetheart?”

She squinted, glancing around at the space they were in before she gave her response, “Yes?”

Caroline felt so wronged by her body when he rolled his neck and replied with ease, “Do you have any samples or sketches to show me?”

It took her a second to process his question, but her body followed the movements before her mind caught up. “Uh— y-yeah,” she stammered and pulled a large portfolio from her tote bag. She had debated just handing her phone, open on her photo album, but she wanted him to see just how complex her work was. She was also concerned about any stray lingerie shots that she had saved for the occasional thirst trap post.

Niklaus grasped the book, his fingers ever so lightly touching the tips of her fingers. She waited with one restrained breath as he flicked through her work. Some work he lingered on and she began chewing on her lip furiously, but most of it, he went through in a breeze. Did he hate it?

“I’ll do it,” he answered firmly before she could stammer out her fashion school-level explanations.

Caroline nearly jumped for a joy, but was quick to keep her feet planted to the floor. “You will?!”

“On one condition.”

“Anything.” Her mind was a buzz with embarrassment when he raised his brows. “Well— I mean, like, not anything, but…” she groaned, “I’m just going to shut up.”

Niklaus held out her portfolio, keeping a firm grip when she began to tug on it. With his voice low and full of breath, he spoke, “I’d like you to pose for me.”

klarolineagainnaturally
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Summary: Your show ends, the passion doesn’t.

Request fill for @stormchasingchick32

Pairing: Alex O’Loughlin x Reader

Warnings: language, smut, unprotected sex, choking, breeding kink, Sir kink, semi-public sex, role play

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With teary eyes, you make your way around the set. The producers promised that you can have a look at the H50 headquarter one last time.

You filmed the last scenes, your character died, and you feel like a huge part of your life died with your role. Well, it’s not only your role.

The series ends and you wrapped the last scenes a few hours ago. All that’s left is to pack your things, say goodbye to your colleagues or rather your family, and to cheer for your new job.

It just doesn’t feel right. You have a new job, a great partner but something will be missing – a huge part of your heart stays on this set and will forever love Hawaii.

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Genre: Fluff, Drabble

Summary: "It made Beca tense every time the redhead used to near her, but Chloe was always patient with her. After the shower incident, so long as the redhead was sober, she always asked Beca’s permission to touch her or step into her space.“

Or: Beca has boundaries, Chloe knocks them all down, and they’re cute.

Author’s Note: june 6th 🌈 so idk if the protests are dying down in america or in other parts of the world, but i hope y’all continue to support and listen to the black community whether or not people are marching in the street. their voices mattered before this and they will continue to matter after, so please don’t stop listening to and working with them.

ao3

42) Holding their hand while walking, even if there isn’t a crowd.

Beca wasn’t a very tactile person.

She liked her space and she liked knowing that she didn’t anyone but herself.

But the universe wasn’t a fan of her decision. Otherwise, they never would’ve let her meet Chloe Beale, the single most tactile, hug-loving, annoyingly warm person Beca’s ever met.

And she hated that she loved it.

Chloe was Beca’s complete opposite when it came to personal space.

She just didn’t have one.

Her space was your space and your space was her space. Chloe loved to share. Share her time, her energy, her happiness, her touches.

It made Beca tense every time the redhead used to near her, but Chloe was always patient with her. After the shower incident, so long as the redhead was sober, she always asked Beca’s permission to touch her or step into her space.

And for some unfathomable reason, Beca let her.

Beca let Chloe hug her after a long rehearsal day. Beca let Chloe lean into her whenever they sat together in the Bella bus. Beca let Chloe hold her hand whenever she got lost at the ICCA venues.

Hell, Beca let Chloe hold her hand when there was no one there.

It was weird, and kind of scary, when she first started to befriend the redhead. But Chloe was nothing if not persistent, and Beca couldn’t help but melt into the senior’s strong touches.

Beca wasn’t a very tactile person, but when Chloe’s warm, soft hand slips into hers, tanned fingers interlocking with her pale ones as they walk through quiet parks and cozy farmer’s markets, Beca finds that she doesn’t mind making an exception.

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Everyone, from her parents to Cassandra to Sam to Helena and the rest of her friends, tells her it’s for the better when she lets them know she and Harry have broken up. That they never liked him much, or they had a feeling it wasn’t going anywhere, or that she had been too good for him.

Fuck that.

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“Please don’t do this, don’t play with my heart. I can’t take it…. not from you.”

“I swear to you, I’d never joke about something like this. I’m in love with you, and I have been for quite some time.”

 “….I don’t know if I can believe you.”

“Then I’ll just keep telling you until you do.”

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It started as an extension of trust,

Validated over time into a familiar acceptance.

Casual acquaintances grew to recognised friends.

Necessary allies became dependable regular supports.

Fixed anchors in a world of chaos.

Safe harbours in times gone bad.

Years pass and people grow,

Some together and some apart.

Where once meetings occurred when they must,

Now they’re enjoyed whenever they can.

Words limited only to those needing to be said,

Expand into dialogues of comforting affection.

Touches of dismissive practicality,

Shift into gestures of fondness.

Love may burn out as a wildfire,

But last forever in carefully banked embers.

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